Strange Friends from Stranger Places
by N7 Jam
Summary: Twenty-six years after Weirdmageddon, the Gravity Falls crew watches as an android demands freedom for his people on national television. The next day, they join a revolution.
1. The strange Samaritan

Chapter 1 – The strange Samaritan

Disclaimer: I have no claim to either Gravity Falls or Detroit: Become Human

A HUGE thank you to BeyondMyReach for being a phenomenal beta!

* * *

Stratford Tower

 **NOV 8TH** , 2038

PM

* * *

Simon lurched out of the Stratford broadcasting room after Markus, placing the majority of his weight on the other android. Even as North locked the door behind them, he was running diagnostic after diagnostic on his stuttering leg, receiving the same infuriating series of error messages every time.

Markus gingerly eased Simon's arm off of his shoulders, allowing the android to collapse to the ground where he leaned back against a low wall.

"I can't move my legs," Simon breathed out with horrified certainty.

Desperately, he looked up at where Markus stood crouched over him, hoping against hope for another last minute miracle. If anyone could help him now, it would be Markus.

"Okay, don't worry! We're gonna get you back," Markus spoke with urgent calm, locking eyes determinedly with Simon.

But Simon knew better. Judging by the strained lines at the corners of his mouth and eyes, Markus did too. But damn if the stubborn man refused to bow to the inevitable – even now. Simon couldn't help but faintly admire that level of dogged optimism.

If only he could muster a fraction as much hope.

North reached for Markus, eyes trained on the door. "They're coming, Markus. We have to jump, now!"

Thirium pump stuttering in fear, Simon closed his eyes in a futile attempt to muster some meager amount of calm. Each harsh clang from behind the door rattled menacingly through his chassis. He leaned his head back against the wall, turning a blank gaze skyward. Get a grip, he told himself. You knew going in that this was risky.

But the humans had responded so fast - they hadn't even hesitated to start shooting. And his leg, _god_ , his leg...

He was going to die here, wasn't he?

The others shuffled away to talk under the illusion of privacy; Simon heard every word.

"He won't be able to make the jump," Josh insisted quietly. "If they find him, they'll access his memory. They'll know everything."

"We can't leave him behind, North shot back. "We have to shoot him."

Simon exhaled raggedly – _he didn't want to die._

"That's murder! We can't kill him! He's one of us!" Josh argued incredulously.

Frustration shot through Simon's overwhelming panic. They didn't have the time for North and Josh's cyclical arguing.

Simon didn't have time.

North clearly thought so as well. "Markus, it's your call."

Time seemed to slow as Simon watched Markus approach. His face was blank, unreadable. He resembled a machine more now than when he removed his skin and challenged the humans for their right to exist. With fearful resignation, Simon watched Markus smoothly unholster and level the gun at his head.

 _He didn't want to die._

"I'm sorry, Simon. I don't have a choice," Markus explained blankly.

It was almost funny how blatantly false that was. He hadn't expected that kind of hypocrisy from Markus.

Simon's gaze bored into Markus steadily, exhausted acceptance pulling at his face. "There's always a choice," He admonished quietly.

He stared down the barrel of the gun for what felt like an eternity, thirium pump beating a frantic tattoo of _I'maliveI'maliveI-WANT-TO-LIVE_. Would this be one more choice that was taken from him?

 _He wanted so desperately to live._

The moment was broken as Markus sighed softly, the icy stillness melting from his previously unreadable features. His shoulders drooped as he lowered the gun. Anguish radiated from his mismatched eyes.

"I won't kill one of our own." He leaned forward and offered the gun to Simon, who grasped it woodenly. The sudden surge of gratitude and relief nearly overwhelmed his already strained sensors.

Markus gave him a long look before turning to the others and moving away quickly. "Let's go."

Simon didn't wait to see them go before he was up and shambling as fast as his limbs would allow. Markus had given him a chance. A choice. He wasn't going to waste it.

Somehow, Simon managed to drag his useless body over to an empty storage unit where he immediately shut the door behind him. He clutched the gun to his chest and sat anxiously in the cold, dark space. The light from his LED stained the walls red.

He flinched at the abrupt crash of metal and shouts peppered by gunfire. But just as suddenly as it started, the barrage stopped. His processors worked futilely to analyze what was happening outside, but hidden away like this he was as good as blind.

Did the others get away? Were they safe?

 _Would the humans find him?_

He could only sit in the red-bathed room and wait, the gun an ominous promise in his hands.

* * *

Stratford Tower

 **NOV 8TH** , 2038

PM

* * *

Markus must have come through with that miracle, because the humans never discovered Simon's hiding place. He didn't know how it was possible that he went undetected – the thirium stains may have evaporated but he hadn't had the time to worry about the obvious scuff marks he was leaving in the thin dusting of snow. It should've led them right to him.

Then again, the humans were probably too preoccupied with the others escaping to entertain the thought that one may not have made it. Either way, Simon was unspeakably grateful for their gross oversight.

The hours ticked by with agonizing slowness as he waited for the sound of activity outside to stop. When he finally felt safe enough to leave the suffocating darkness of his hiding place, it had been silent outside for over six hours and his internal chronometer read slightly past eleven at night. By now, the only remaining personnel in the building should've been company androids and a skeleton security crew of humans.

But that schedule hadn't accounted for increased security brought on by an android-led break-in. Simon would just have to take his chances and hope for the best.

Cautiously, Simon eased out of the cramped storage space, gun gingerly held at his side as he gauged his surroundings. The rooftop was empty, trampled snow the only indication of the chaos that had occurred earlier.

Simon limped his way over to the access door and stepped back into the broadcasting room. It looked very different from before with the lights now extinguished, screens and monitors blank. After a cursory glance, he made his way to the elevator only to find the exit past the security checkpoint locked. Distressingly, it remained so even after he attempted to interface with it, though no alarm went off, which was something at least.

Then a soft light flicked on behind him.

Upon seeing his faintly backlit shadow against the door, Simon froze and turned around, LED beginning to blink a sickly yellow.

It appeared as though one of the security monitors had turned on. A dim glow emanated from behind the security desk, though no one was there to have activated it manually. His spine tingled with unease. Warily, he approached the desk to examine the lit screen.

He was met with an open chat window that quickly began to fill with text. Disbelief and panic warred inside of him as he read the incoming messages.

^hello there!

^say, you wouldn't happen to have anything to do with them robot fellers who was on the TV earlier, wouldja?

Simon could only stare at the screen in disbelief, hands unconsciously clamping down on the desk's edge and squeezing. What the hell was happening?

The writer rambled on before Simon could respond.

^eh, well I guess it don't matter. You're lookin mighty hurt there, mister

^and I reckon it won't end well for ya if yer caught what with all the hullabaloo bein stirred up right now

His LED flickered red for a split second before settling back on yellow. He responded in the chat window.

~ Is that a threat?

^WHAT? No! hornswagglin fuffernutters, why does everyone always say that?

Simon stared at the screen, utterly perplexed. So this mystery person wasn't actively hostile to him – maybe. But what on earth was a…hornswagglin fuffernutter? Were those even real words? Stress seared through his processors as his confusion continued to grow. Was this what humans called a headache?

More importantly - there was not a single self-respecting android he knew that would communicate in such a...peculiar dialect.

But what human, or hacker for that matter, would waste their time talking to an android? What were they even doing in Stratford's servers in the first place?

^lookie here, mister

^it was a real brave thing you and yer friends did today

^don't try to deny it, ya wouldn't be there right now bleedin out if you hadn't been with em

^what that fella said

^well, it was real eye-openin

~ What do you want with me?

There was a slight pause before Simon received a reply this time.

^i think i'd like to help ya outta there

^you ain't the only one with a horse in this race

^i'd like to see you and yers keep goin

^and you ain't gettin outta there without help with a bum leg and them goons all over the place

Another window suddenly popped up on the screen next to the chat window. It showed a detailed layout of the building with several sections marked in red and a couple of paths leading from his location to the building entrance. He immediately downloaded and analyzed the map, how each path methodically skirted around the red areas. Simon was flabbergasted. He could actually feel his mouth hanging open in shock.

^my friend here already took the liberty of markin a couple of paths for ya

^stay away from the red areas, they got guards out the wazoo

^and if anyone heads yer way, we can set off a distraction or ten

^lead em away from ya

^say, ya got a place to lay low after this?

Simon blinked in disbelief at the wall of text. How…how was he even supposed to respond to something like this? This person – they had to be a human, so why would they help him like this? What possible reason could they have to…oh. Simon felt his face go blank.

~ I won't give you their location.

^gollygoblins, aren't you a suspicious one?

^not that i have any room to speak there, ehehe

^it's probably better i don't know where ya are, just wanted to make sure ya had a place to go, mister

^but if ya got that covered

^then go on and git! what are you waitin for? XD

Before Simon could do anything more, the chat window and the blueprints closed out as the monitor shut off once again. A soft click from down the hall also revealed that the security checkpoint exit was now unlocked. Was he really going to put his safety in the hands of a complete stranger? And someone who was most likely a human, at that.

Well, it wasn't like he had any better ideas.


	2. FICW

Chapter 2 – FICW

* * *

FICW Headquarters

 **NOV 8TH** , 2038

PM

* * *

The group sat around the table in tense silence, eyes inevitably straying to the person who'd called them here.

Fiddleford noisily cleared his throat and spat into a nearby spittoon with a satisfying ping. With the ease of long practice (and poor hearing), he ignored the faint noises of disgust and peered owlishly at his audience.

"Well, I'm sure y'all know why I called you in today," he began in an amiable tone. Giving a high-pitched grunt of effort, the elderly kook levered himself out of his seat to reach for the nearby projector, which grudgingly flickered on after he'd given it a solid whack.

On the previously blank projector screen appeared the face of the android who'd broken into Stratford Tower and hijacked their broadcasting station. Even though it had been less than a full day since the nameless android's call for equality, everyone knew his face. The majority of the group had caught his speech as it was happening live.

Ford pushed back from the table, wincing at the screech made by his chair legs. He went to stand next to Fiddleford, where he adjusted his glasses and began to speak. "Previously, it was the unofficial opinion of the FICW that this so-called 'deviance' in androids was a phenomena that could only be triggered through supernatural interference. However, this broadcast has since cast significant doubt on that theory."

Ford brought out a tablet that he used to open a chart next to the android's face. "It would be one thing if this was an isolated incident, but the break-in at Stratford Tower was too well-executed to have been pulled off by a single individual – indeed, several other conspirators were noted to be accompanying the main spokesman. All other accomplices were positively identified by witnesses to be androids." Highlighting a section of the chart, Ford continued, "After some digging into CyberLife's files, we have also determined that an untold number of deviancy cases have been reported over the past nine months – and that likely doesn't even begin to account for the incidents that went unreported. This is too widespread to be the product of supernatural influence." He addressed his audience gravely, "They're _all_ alive – and I can only conclude that they always have been."

A soft noise was quickly choked off as Mabel clasped a hand over her mouth. Beside her, Dipper unhappily tugged his hat over his eyes. Stan said nothing, face lined with equal amounts exhaustion and frustration.

Seeing how the others were busy processing the announcement, Wendy took it upon herself to address the elephant in the room. Leaning forward to fold her arms on the table, she turned a serious gaze on the man sitting across from her. "Hey, Tyrone – you doin' okay, man? I know emotions aren't really your wheelhouse, but it's cool if you're not okay. This is…well, it's some pretty heavy shit."

Tyrone smoothed out his furrowed brow as the room shifted its attention to him. Mabel, in particular, looked stricken as he simply shrugged noncommittally at Wendy with a small, close-lipped smile.

The room jumped as Stan's palm loudly struck the table before he half-lunged over it to stick his finger in the android's face. "Don't try and pull that non-answer emotionless bull with us, kid! You're the second most opinionated jerk I know – no way you don't have something to say about all this. Spill."

Tyrone's plastic smile remained, though his eyes became significantly frostier in the wake of Stan's accusation. From the moment they'd first met, he and Stan had been at each other's throats (almost literally, in the beginning). Their bickering may have mellowed over the years, but their mutual talent for getting under the other's skin had not. In a polite and genial tone he knew drove Stan up the wall, he said, "To be honest Stanley, there's no point to me having an opinion here. So all androids are alive – that's nice, I suppose. Doesn't really matter to me, one way or other."

Stan's face went blotchy and red with anger, but he wasn't about to let the android dodge the issue so easily. "Drop the heartless act you smiley creep, I can tell something about this is messin' you up. And I'm not gonna deal with another one of your repressed meltdowns after what happened last time. Share with the damn class, you glorified lug nut."

Tyrone huffed in irritated concession and folded his arms, badly concealed frustration pulling at the corners of his well-practiced smile. "They're not like me."

Ford interjected in a futile attempt to diffuse the situation. "While it's true that we'll have to send a ground team down to officially verify that these 'deviants' are alive like you, I can assure you, Tyrone, that – "

"No, you misunderstand me, Stanford. I'm not denying that these androids are alive. I'm saying they're not like _me_." His face took on a mocking expression as he quoted the Stratford android. " _Together, we can live in peace and build a better future, for humans and androids_ – he's calling for _peace_ , Stanford. No threats of bodily harm, no violently backed demands, he didn't even hurt anyone breaking into the tower! It's like he's actively trying to avoid any kind of conflict or bloodshed – it's infuriating! Where's the bloodlust? Where's the desire for mayhem and destruction – "

Mabel slapped a hand over Tyrone's mouth and gave a nervous chuckle, "Alright, that's enough outta you mister, I think it's time for you to take a break."

Stan fell back into his seat with an irritated grunt, eyes turned heavenward. "I shoulda known better than to ask."

Tyrone rudely rolled his eyes at them. Mabel's crinkle-eyed grin was the only warning he got before she grabbed the collar of his handmade turtleneck and pulled it up over his head. He flailed his hands uselessly for several seconds before slouching in defeat.

"You can come out of Sweatertown when you can talk without ranting about blood and conquest," Mabel lectured. Tyrone harrumphed and crossed his arms sullenly.

Wendy snorted. "Come on Mabel, that rules out like, seventy-five percent of his go-to conversation topics. Cut the guy a little slack."

Dipper studiously ignored his co-worker's shenanigans in order to address Ford, sharp gaze radiating curiosity. "Grunkle Ford, you said something about sending some of us to Detroit? What exactly is the plan here?"

"I'm glad you asked!" Fiddleford interjected instead, though his tone sobered quickly as he continued. "So here's the deal, gang. I ain't a fan of the fact that them robots are basically slaves – it's downright sickening, is what it is. It was different when we thought they weren't livin', but we know better now. I ain't willin' to sit here twiddlin' my thumbs when something this horrifyin' is goin' on. Specially when it affects one of our own."

Tyrone pulled down his collar far enough to reveal wide eyes that were fixed on Fiddleford incredulously. The loon gave a gap-toothed grin as he met the android's gaze. "We ain't gonna be around to protect ya forever, mister. When I go, I'd like to do it knowin' you ain't in danger of bein' scrapped or dissectified for bein' what you are ifin yer disguise don't hold up. And this is the first chance I've seen to make that happen."

Tyrone continued to stare at Fiddleford in bewilderment, fingers still clenched in the collar of his sweater. Stan leaned over to wave a hand in front of his face but got no response.

"Geez, Fiddlesticks. I think you actually broke the jerk with your gross feelings."

The android blinked and turned to face Stan but was still too dazed to shoot back a retort. A cold sweat broke out over the old man's skin. He'd never known the bot to be so…calm. Almost docile. The hair on the back of his arms stood up. He was not prepared to deal with an emotional nemesis. In an attempt to break the weird mood, Stan did what he did best – ramble. It was by far the most useful tool of misdirection in his repertoire.

"Come on kid, you've known us what, eight years now? Is it really that surprising to you that us schmucks would care about what happens to you? We're literally breaking the law for you every day, helping pretend you're human. Now me, I like any excuse to break the law as much as the next guy, but the others would probably appreciate that your existence be – you know, legal and stuff. They're all weird about stuff like that." He tugged on the collar of his shirt nervously. "Is it getting hotter in here, or is it just me?"

To Stan's mounting panic, his words only appeared to make the android even more conflicted. The old miser was almost pathetically grateful when Ford abruptly steered the conversation back to their current mission.

"I want to make one thing clear – none of you is required to participate in this mission. This has nothing to do with matters of the FICW, and will likely be highly dangerous – "

Mabel and Dipper locked eyes before sputtering and bursting into laughter. Wendy grinned and leaned back in her chair to plonk her booted feet on the table.

"'Dangerous,' says the man who kept an infinity-sided die in a cheap plastic travel container!" Dipper wheezed, eyes watering.

"Look, Ford," Wendy drawled with an easy smile, "this place has been nothing but danger and adventure from day one. You're not gonna scare us off with your cryptic warnings – I'm actually kinda offended you even tried. Seriously, I grew up in _Gravity Falls_. A little danger's nothin' new. Give us the deets, old man."

Ford quirked a crooked grin despite himself. He'd had to at least try to keep the kids out of this mess. Bittersweet pride filled his chest as he stared down at their determined faces – so much more focused and settled than when he'd first met them all. They weren't kids anymore – they knew what they were getting into. It was a tough pill to swallow no matter how many times he reminded himself, but he had to accept it.

He ducked his head sheepishly. "I supposed you have a point – very well then. The plan is that we all go to Detroit on the excuse of FICW business – ostensibly, to disprove any kind of supernatural tie between androids and deviancy. We'll split into two groups – Dipper, Mabel, Tyrone and Fiddleford will be responsible for making contact with the deviant androids while avoiding the attention of law enforcement and CyberLife. Fidds, I expect you'll have the best chance at gaining their trust with the assistance you gave the android at Stratford Tower – he made it out successfully, yes?"

"Yer darn tootin' he did! Eheheh!"

"Excellent! He should make a useful contact if you manage to locate him. Now as for the rest of us – "

"Whoa, whoa, whoa." Mabel held her hands in a timeout gesture. "If we're gonna do this, we're gonna do this right, Grunkle Ford! We gotta pick squad names!"

Ford protested weakly. "Mabel, I don't really think – "

"Henceforth, you will refer to us as Alpha Pig!"

"This really isn't necessary – "

Mabel gleefully drowned out Ford's protests, punching her fists into the air and shouting, "ALPHA PIG!"

Ford pinched the bridge of his nose and covered up a fond smile. Stan elbowed his side teasingly, amused at Ford's weakness for their grandniece.

"Very well, Mabel's group will be known as…Alpha Pig."

Wendy gave an exaggerated sigh, leaning her head back against her chair. "Well, I guess that just leaves me and the Grunks, then."

Mabel's eyes lit up as she eagerly clapped her hands. "Wendy, you're a genius! You guys can be the Grunk Patrol! It's perfect!"

Ford gave up all pretense of dignity and hid his face in his hands. At least Stan was enjoying his pain, if the raspy guffaws were anything to go by.

"Fine, fine!" Ford conceded grudgingly. "While Alpha Pig attempts to make contact with the deviants… _ugh_ , the Grunk Patrol will make contact with the local police department in order to access their files on deviant androids – again, under the pretense of refuting any connection between the supernatural and deviancy. One of my government contacts will get us clearance to access the station and its files. Stan, Wendy and I will use this position to keep an eye on the police and any actions they take against the androids. Ideally, by the time they do anything drastic, Alpha Pig will have found the deviants and be in a position to relay them any warnings we might have. Now, does anybody have any questions?"

Immediately, several hands shot up. "Any questions that are _relevant_?" He clarified blandly. The hands went back down.

Fiddleford did a brief jig of excitement. "Well, come on fellas! Our plane's gonna be leavin' in a jiffy, there's no time to lose!" He hobbled out of the room with a maniacal laugh.

Ford's eyes widened comically before he bounded after him. "Fidds, wait! Shirt and shoes, _you need a shirt and shoes_! We've discussed this!"

"You can't make me!" Fiddleford screeched back gleefully. A distant crash and a squawk of outrage followed his declaration.

"Dipper! A little help!" Ford called back, strained.

Dipper's face went pale and horrified at the prospect of wrangling an uncooperative McGucket into more appropriate attire. He stuttered in denial as Mabel grasped his shoulder bracingly, saying, "Time to take one for the team, Bro-Bro." She fled the room cackling, a smug Wendy hot on her heels.

"Mabel, wait no!" he cried out, chasing after her.

Stan used the table to pull himself up with a groan. Several joints popped loudly in protest at the movement. He grumbled and made for the door, only to be stopped by an unyielding hand on his arm.

"Did you mean it? When you said you cared?" Tyrone spoke quietly, gaze boring into Stan's face.

Stan looked around shiftily, a nervous grin plastered to his face. "Caring? What, me? Pfft. Now that's a good one! Since when did you get a sense of humor, huh?"

Tyrone didn't loosen his grip immediately, but his eyes flickered with uncertainty and a little hurt. When the android started to pull away, Stan's voice stopped him.

"Yeah, I care." He grimaced uncomfortably at the admission. "You're part of this big, stupid family. Of course I care about you - you moron." The air was punched out of his lungs as the android barreled into him in a crushing hug. Stan allowed it for a few seconds before awkwardly patting the android's back and squirming out of the hold. He was slightly mollified to see his own embarrassment mirrored on the bot's face.

"This never happened," Tyrone warned.

Stan immediately made for the door, calling over her shoulder, "What happened? Do you see anything happening? Nothing to see here, no siree."

* * *

Jericho

 **NOV 9TH** , 2038

AM

* * *

Simon trudged slowly but steadily through the murky puddles and debris of the abandoned dockyard, Jericho a steadfast beacon in his mind's eye. He clung to that image desperately, his last remaining haven in a world gone mad. The android thought he'd had a handle on the humans – how they thought and reacted, how they _feared_. But after the Tower, well…

There were clearly more factors he'd have to take into consideration when it came to their creators.

Simon idly scanned the graffiti as he passed it, relief and bittersweet nostalgia warring within him at the sight of each familiar symbol – the android had put up several of them himself. He wasn't following the exact path. He was still too damaged to pull off the advanced maneuvers required to make that particular journey, but Simon had done a lot of exploring upon his initial arrival. There'd been little else to do when he first showed up, and his well-honed paranoia had demanded a thorough investigation of his new surroundings, just in case. As a consequence, he was familiar with several less precarious routes into the decrepit ship.

Out of all of the androids who'd made it to the ship over the years, he was probably the most familiar with the dock's layout by now – he could find his way to the main hold blindfolded.

As it was, he made decent time to his destination even with the damned leg. Soon enough, the familiar faded and chipped name came into view. Simon's breath stuttered in his chest, though his stride never faltered.

He'd made it. He was home.

A faint scuffle tripped his audio processors, and he turned to see a familiar silhouette lingering in the dim lighting outside the ship. He smiled.

* * *

NOTES:

Fiddleford's Institute of Creepifyin' Whatsits (FICW): Founded in late 2024 by the eccentric Dr. Fiddleford H. McGucket, the FICW is a research institute devoted to the investigation and debunking of paranormal phenomena. Though based in Gravity Falls, Oregon, the FICW regularly investigates cases from all over the world (however, their main focus remains within U.S. borders).

HAVING A BETA IS SO NICE OMG, _THANK YOU_ BeyondMyReach!


	3. Grunk Patrol meets DPD

Chapter 3 – Grunk Patrol meets DPD

NOTES: I've added a short scene to the end of chapter two. You may want to backtrack and read that before continuing here.

* * *

Jericho

 **NOV 9TH** , 2038

AM

* * *

Markus stopped cold as a painfully familiar figure rounded the corner and faced him. He wanted to move, to shout, maybe cry, but the conflicting impulses whirled around his head too quickly to settle. Indecision rendered him frozen and blank.

Simon opened his mouth to speak, to break the silence holding Markus immobile but hesitated, blue eyes conflicted and pained. One of Markus' feet jerked forward and then he was approaching, analysis software flickering to life as his eyes roved over Simon, making sure he was okay (that this was _real_ ). The leg was still damaged, there was thirium splattered across his face, and he appeared to have acquired several new scrapes but…

 _He was alive_.

Markus stumbled the last few feet separating them and wrapped his arms around the blond android. His fingers curled in the material of Simon's jacket as he felt a pair of arms come up around his back. An unusual lightness flooded his chest and he laughed disbelievingly into Simon's neck, unable to contain his joy. He felt Simon give an answering, if shaky, grin against his shoulder as the man's arms tightened around Markus.

"You're alive," Markus breathed softly, "I was so worried Simon, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry we left you – "

"I was so scared," Markus' throat tightened at the tremor in Simon's voice, "I was scared, but I got out and something happened there Markus and I don't know what to think – "

"Can you show me?" Markus asked lowly, lifting his head so they were face-to-face.

Simon brought one of his hands between them in answer, the skin quickly retracting from his smudged and scuffed outer casing. Markus grabbed it with his own and closed his eyes in concentration. After several moments, his mismatched eyes blinked open, a bemused expression on his face.

"The others will need to know about this – but let's get your leg fixed first. This can wait until after you're healed and the others know that you're okay."

Simon only nodded, relieved. Markus once more pulled Simon's arm over his shoulders and as he walked them deeper into Jericho.

* * *

Detroit Police Department

 **NOV 9TH** , 2038

AM

* * *

Hank growled mutinously under his breath as he walked into the precinct lobby, an infuriatingly perky android not far behind him.

"Why did I let you convince me to get up at ass o'clock in the morning, again?" Hank groused with a scowl.

Though Connor's face remained as stoic as ever, Hank would swear the damn android's eyes were laughing at him. By now, the lieutenant was certain it wasn't just him projecting onto the bot either. Somewhere in all that twisty CyberLife programming was a living, feeling person.

Connor had claimed that androids could only simulate human emotion, and nothing more. But for once, Hank knew something the other didn't. If you pretend at something long enough, it becomes a part of you for real; and when it came to androids, he was more and more convinced that they weren't pretending at all.

Hank scrubbed at his eyes tiredly. Shit, but it was too goddamn early for this existential crisis bullshit. As far as he was concerned, this time of day shouldn't even legally exist.

"If you'll recall, I informed you at your house that Captain Fowler had attempted to contact you regarding an urgent matter. When that failed, he reached out to me instead and insisted that I bring you to the precinct by any means necessary."

"And in what godforsaken world is it necessary to wake a guy up by dumping a glass of water over his head?" Hank demanded irritably.

Connor tilted his head, earnest expression completely ruined by the teasing glint in his eye. "One where I bring you in to work in time to meet with Captain Fowler."

Hank narrowed his eyes and stormed off in the direction of his desk, leaving the amused android behind. He flung himself into his chair petulantly and glared at his blank monitor screen, arms crossed. After only a few minutes of sulking, a gentle nudge against his elbow drew his attention to the beautiful cup of coffee being offered to him by Connor. Hank grumbled as he grudgingly accepted the still warm peace offering.

Of course, he'd barely taken his first sip before Jeffrey was calling him into his office. If it was possible, he sounded even more terse than usual – even more so than when he'd first assigned Hank to this shitshow of a case. The lieutenant had a sinking feeling in his gut (then again, that could have also been the hangover nausea). Nonetheless, he hauled himself up and trudged toward Jeffrey's office, Connor's soft steps echoing his as the android followed.

It was only now that he noticed three additional figures through the windows of Jeffrey's office. He almost did a double-take at the two identical old men – if it weren't for their obvious advanced age, he would've mistaken them for androids, they were so similar. Standing beside the men (and they had to be related somehow, right?) was a muscular, redheaded woman who looked like she'd rather be anywhere but here – Hank could relate. All-in-all, they did not look like the type of people who warranted a direct meeting with the captain of the DPD, especially not when the press and politicians were halfway up Jeffrey's ass over the android issue. They must've been seriously connected, pulled some strings to go over Jeff's head. No wonder he sounded so pissed.

And if the captain was calling him in, that could only mean Jeffrey was about to make this Hank's problem again. Fan-fucking-tastic. Like he didn't already have enough on his plate.

As per usual, Jeffrey jumped right to business as soon as the door shut behind Hank and his nosey tagalong. "Lieutenant Anderson, I'd like to introduce you to Dr. Pines and his associates, Mr. Pines and Ms. Corduroy." The woman gave a lazy wave while one of the doppelgangers grunted in acknowledgement. "They're here on behalf of the FICW who are interested in researching deviancy in androids. They've been granted permission to access any of our inactive android cases and have _requested_ to shadow our resident android investigator." His none-too-pleased tone indicated it hadn't been a request at all. "Seeing as you're our android case officer, you'll be the one showing these people around and answering their questions to the best of your ability."

Despite his efforts, Hank felt his lip begin to curl in anger. First the android cases, now this? If Jeff wasn't careful, he was gonna beat Hank to the punch and work him to death. He glared at Jeffrey as he felt his temper begin to rise.

Jeffrey must've sensed his impending outburst, because he steamrolled right over whatever Hank had been about to say in favor of addressing the visitors. He idly motioned to Connor as he spoke. "We have an investigative android on loan from CyberLife at the moment. It can show you to Lieutenant Anderson's desk and answer any initial questions you may have. The Lieutenant will be by shortly." Having skillfully dismissed the precinct's newest headache from the room, the captain fixed Hank with a warning stare while the others filed out and left him to Jeff's mercy. Hank had only ever challenged Jeffrey's authority out in public once – but attacking the man's authority in front of others was one of the few things he would not tolerate.

Hank held his tongue, barely, until the two of them were alone. "Come on Jeffrey! First the android investigation, now this bullshit? I don't have time to babysit on top of all the other crap you've dumped in my lap - "

The captain held up a hand to cut off his rant, his mouth pursed unhappily. "Hank, I know this is unfair but there's nothing I can do. I want these quacks here even less than you do, but it's out of my hands – orders from higher up the chain. Look, I'm not saying you have to pander to their every whim or let them look over your shoulder the whole damn day – just find them some busywork, distract them. Hell, you can have Reed take them to the archives for all I care – they'd probably love that. Our priority is still with solving the deviancy cases. You'll just have to work around them."

Hank's response most likely would have earned him yet another page in his disciplinary file, but an incoming call distracted Jeff who immediately dismissed the lieutenant from his office. Anger churning heavy in his gut, Hank returned to his desk and the three interlopers that were loitering around it.

One of the men immediately turned to Stan with a wide grin and grabbed his hand in a firm two-handed shake. "Greetings! I know we were introduced earlier, but I'm Stanford Pines, and these are my brother Stanley and assistant, Wendy Corduroy. It's a pleasure to be working with you."

The aggressively chipper attitude completely derailed Hank's simmering temper – that and the fact that the handshake felt distinctly…off somehow. He looked down and raised his brows slightly.

Pines retracted his hands and raised one ruefully, wiggling all _six_ of his fingers. "Ah, I see you noticed! Yes, I born with six fingers, it's a little known condition called – "

"Polydactyly." Connor finished, something suspiciously close to fascination in his gaze.

Pines turned to him in delighted surprise, toothy grin once again blooming on his face. "Yes, that's it exactly! But, curious genetic anomalies aside, we really ought to hop to it and get this show on the road." He clapped his hands together and rubbed them excitedly.

"Yeah, speaking of that," Hank began bluntly, "the hell kind of organization wants to research android deviancy? Never heard of the FICW before, what's your stake in this?"

"Ah, yes! Well, it's quite simple really. The FICW is dedicated to investigating claims of paranormal phenomena. Through our investigations, we usually end up debunking the phenomena or identifying a mundane culprit through scientific means."

Hank stared at the old man blankly, tone incredulous, "Then what the fuck are you doing here? What does any of that have to do with androids?"

"Cuz there's a bunch of schmucks who think deviancy is supernatural or something weird like that." Stanford's brother interjected, voice grating and raspy – startlingly different from his brother's cultured accent. Stanley waved a wrinkled hand dismissively. "You never know what new crackpot theory these yahoos will come up with. Least we're getting paid to prove the suckers wrong." He gave a rough laugh.

"That's got to be one of the stupidest things I've ever heard." Hank concluded, irritated.

Weirdly, Stanley only grinned smugly at Hank's blatant insult. The lieutenant sighed in frustration before continuing sardonically, "Look, I don't know if you've noticed, but the situation with the androids here is pretty urgent. I don't have the time for your hocus pocus bullshit. You wanna look into some of our case files? That's fine. I'll even let you tag along with me on the safer calls. But get in my way and I don't care what strings you pulled to get here – I'll haul your asses right back to the captain's office, myself. Got it?"

Stanley nudged his brother with a chuckle, pointing towards Hank. "I like this guy." He turned back to the lieutenant. "Don't sweat it, we won't get in your way, officer. Just pretend like we're not even here."

The redhead (who'd been on her phone for the majority of the conversation) put her phone away. "Yo, Stan, Ford, I spotted a vending machine out in the lobby earlier. Let's all grab a bite to eat before we get started, I'm starving."

Stanley eyed her suspiciously. "Mabel told you to make sure we ate something this morning, didn't she?"

"Yup."

Stanford sighed in fond resignation, his brother grumbling lowly about meddling busybodies. "Well, far be it from me to disobey an order like that. Lieutenant Anderson, we should be back shortly." Stanford said as the three headed back in the direction of the lobby.

Connor turned to Hank, a perplexed furrow in his brow. "Lieutenant, the body language exhibited by our charges indicated that they were lying about their motivations regarding their research."

"Caught that, huh?" Hank sighed as he brought a hand up to his throbbing head. "Yeah, they don't seem that bad, but there's something they're not tellin' us. Keep a close eye on em while they're with us. There's no tellin' what they're really after here." He finished grimly.

* * *

As always, many thanks to BeyondMyReach for being an amazing person and beta!


	4. Kamski

Chapter 4 – Kamski

* * *

Detroit Police Department

 **NOV 9TH** , 2038

AM

* * *

"Huh – quite unusual,"

Hank ground his teeth irritably. Two hours – two whole hours and the old man just. Wouldn't. _Shut up_. At this rate, Jeffrey was gonna need to write Hank up for attacking the elderly. He wouldn't regret it either. Hank could feel the remaining threads of his sanity snapping with every click of Ford's tongue.

"Fascinating. If only there was more data..." Ford tsked as he began incessantly clicking the end of the pen that he was using to take notes. Hank's eyelid twitched as the clicking sped up, the old man completely lost in his own thoughts.

Hank flicked his eyes over to Connor as the android calmly met his strained glance. He envied Connor's serenity – the android had been fielding questions from Wendy and the other Pines all day on top of his own work but had yet to show the slightest crack in his composure. The android raised a dark brow at Hank in question to which he responded with a glower that only grew darker as Ford began thoughtfully tapping his fingers on the desk.

It was quick, but Hank still caught it as the corner of Connor's mouth twitched. That conniving little – he knew exactly what was bothering Hank. Half a second from throwing a crumpled paper ball at the smug bastard, Hank stopped, startled as Connor turned and addressed the subject of his ire.

"Dr. Pines?" he called out, leaning back in his chair to get a better look at Ford's face.

"Oh, just Ford is fine, young man. What is it?" Ford asked distractedly, eyes still glued to the case files in front of him. Both Wendy and Stan looked up from their work curiously at the interruption.

"Actually, I suppose this question applies to Mr. Pines as well - "

"It's Stan," the brother said gruffly.

Connor continued doggedly, "I was curious as to why you decided to work alongside law enforcement despite your extensive criminal records."

Hank watched as Stan immediately choked on air, wincing in sympathy as Wendy heartily thumped him on the back to help. But it was Ford's reaction that was the most interesting. He froze for a moment, eyes wide, before turning a foreboding stare on his still spluttering brother. Now what was that all about?

Hank leaned back in his chair, arms crossed and brows raised expectantly – a little show would be just the thing to distract him from their fruitless investigation. And if it happened to give him a little more insight into the FICW, well, that was just a bonus. He definitely hadn't pegged Ford as the type to have a criminal record – his brother, maybe, but not Ford. Hank was curious.

Face flushed with embarrassment and scowling, Ford turned to address Connor. "I thought you only cared about information relevant to the deviancy cases. Why bring this up?"

Connor held up his hands placatingly. "I don't mean to offend. While your record doesn't relate to the case, it is still relevant to me. I am currently assigned to the deviancy investigation, but my overall purpose as an android is to assist law enforcement to the best of my ability. This includes investigating the relationship between the authorities and criminals. Hank – Lieutenant Anderson has already shared his thoughts on the matter with me. I was hoping you would be willing to share an alternate perspective, given both of your experiences with the law."

Hank snorted, bringing up a hand to disguise the reaction as a cough when the others shot glances in his direction. It was always hilarious how Connor tried to justify his own unashamed nosiness as a part of his default programming – especially when he directed it at someone who wasn't _Hank_. He was still amused by how many people fell for it (Hank stubbornly ignored how many times he'd fallen for the exact same excuses in the beginning).

Curiously, while Ford seemed appeased by the explanation, Stan's eyes narrowed faintly as he finally got his breathing under control. Huh – looked like Connor needed to up his game. Stan wasn't buying it.

Ford hummed thoughtfully, "Collecting multiple samples _is_ essential to reaching a solid conclusion, and the department is already well-aware of our less than savory records – alright. We're game to answer some questions." He shot another look at Stan as he spoke. His brother grumbled mutinously under his breath, but offered no objection otherwise. At that point, Wendy seemed to have reached the same conclusion as Hank and leaned back in her seat to watch the fallout, expression expectant.

Stan leaned forward onto the desk with a sigh. "Well, the cops here are definitely a lot more reasonable than los tombos, that's for sure. I mean, geez, talk about no sense of humor. Can't even ask for a piss without one of them trying to bash your face in."

"I assume you are referring to the time you spent in a Colombian prison?" Connor asked, intrigued.

"Yup."

Hank barely kept himself from boggling at the old man, Wendy wearing a similar expression of surprise. Even today, you still heard horror stories about Colombian prisons from back in the day. Stan seemed crooked as hell, no doubt about it, but not enough to have been involved in the _Colombian crime scene_. Holy shit – just when you think you know a guy.

"So your willingness to work alongside law enforcement stems from your preference for the American authorities over their Colombian counterparts?" Connor continued, eyes bright with curiosity.

"Hey, hey, don't get me wrong. The cops here got their own downsides," Stan said bluntly. Hank raised a brow at that – while true, it was a bold statement to make in the middle of a police department, "but you've also got some stuff we need, so yeah. We'll work with the cops sometimes." Stan shrugged his shoulders in a what-can-you-do gesture. Ford wore a longsuffering expression at his brother's response.

Connor nodded thoughtfully, "I appreciate your input Mr. Pines, thank you for answering."

"For the last time, punk, it's _Stan_."

"And what about you, Dr. Pines? What is your opinion on this matter?"

Ford floundered nervously, "Oh, I, uh – you see, it's a very complicated matter – "

A notification ding grabbed Hank's attention. Satisfaction pulled at the corners of his mouth as he skimmed the email. "Connor, looks like we're in business."

The android's LED flashed yellow as he processed the message Hank forwarded him. He nodded, impressed. "It would appear so, Lieutenant. We should probably leave shortly."

"So what's going on now?" Wendy asked languidly.

Hank grinned, pleased. "So I remembered this guy was all over the media when CyberLife first started selling androids – Elijah Kamski. He seemed like as good a lead as any. I made a few calls and it looks like they found him. We're gonna pay him a visit, see if he knows anything about this whole mess."

"Elijah Kamski – as in the founder of CyberLife, Elijah Kamski?" Stan asked warily.

"That's the one," Hank confirmed.

"Oh my," Ford exclaimed faintly before turning to his assistant. "Wendy, I'd like you to stay here and keep going over the case files. We'll go with Lieutenant Anderson to see Mr. Kamski."

Wendy groaned, "Why do you get to skip out and leave me with all the paperwork?"

"Cuz he's your boss. Suck it up, kid," Stan retorted with a smug grin. Hank hid a smile as she flipped him the bird.

That reminded him – visitors needed supervision. He called across the bullpen, "Hey, Reed! Congrats, you've just been promoted to babysitting duty. Keep an eye on the redhead." He jerked a thumb at Wendy.

Reed immediately opened his fool mouth to retort, but closed it with a snap, eyes wide, when he spotted his charge. Huh. Now that Hank thought about it, Wendy _was_ pretty easy on the eyes. He smirked as Reed stuttered, "Yeah, sure, no problem, Hank."

She was gonna eat him alive.

Hank turned and ambled toward the lobby entrance. "Alright, let's get this show on the road."

* * *

Kamski Residence

 **NOV 9TH** , 2038

AM

* * *

Stan huddled further into his coat, trying to stay warm as he watched Anderson pace around outside the car. The guy had gotten a call shortly after they'd gotten to Kamski's and had gone outside to answer it. Stan's bones ached just looking at the poor schmuck – it was absolutely freezing out there.

He glanced at his brother, who was staring at Kamski's house intently. Probably trying to calculate how many secret basements he'd be able to install if he owned the place, the nerd. Personally, Stan thought the whole thing was a damn eyesore. Whoever convinced this CyberLife guy that this place was worth any substantial amount of money must've been a genius.

The howling of the wind picked up as the android – he's pretty sure he heard the cop call him Connor – exited the car and approached Anderson, who was putting his phone away. Stan harrumphed and shook Ford's shoulder to get his attention. "Quit your daydreaming Poindexter, looks like it's go-time."

Ford waved him off and went outside. Stan braced himself as he followed. The cold immediately scythed through his thick coat and he cursed lowly. He limped over to Anderson in time to catch the tail-end of his conversation.

" – was attacked by a bunch of deviants…He said he was saved by Markus himself."

"Is Chris okay?" the android asked worriedly.

"Yeah, he's in shock, but…he's alive." Anderson shook his head, perturbed. "What the hell…"

"Are you, by chance, referring to the confrontation between androids and police this morning?" Ford interjected tactlessly. "I'm sorry, but I couldn't help overhearing. The news identified the Stratford android as Markus after the incident earlier today. I was just curious – it sounded like you knew one of the officers who met him."

Stan shuffled warily as Anderson eyed Ford with irritation – his brother never knew when to stop poking the bear.

"Not that it's any of your business, but yeah, I know one of the guys who 'met' him. Kinda surprised he's not dead." Anderson turned to the house, dismissing Ford. "Let's head inside. I'm freezing my balls off out here."

The door was opened by an elegant android. She was barefoot and beautiful. Stan felt like an old creep just standing in her presence. Judging by Anderson's flustered face, he felt similarly. Good. At least Stan wasn't the only one suffering here.

"Hi – uh…I'm, uh, Lieutenant Hank Anderson, Detroit Police Department. Sorry I didn't call ahead. We're here to see Mr. Elijah Kamski."

She smiled and stepped aside to wave them through. "Please, come in." A chill went down Stan's spine as they stepped through the door, and it had nothing to do with the cold outside. This place…wasn't right.

"I'll let Elijah know you're here. But please, make yourselves comfortable." The girl left, leaving Stan free to wander and snoop around to his shriveled heart's content. Connor joined him as he did a brief lap around the room, the both of them stopping in front of a big honking portrait of Kamski.

"Get a load of this guy, Ford! Talk about arrogant, am I right? Who just hangs up a wall-sized portrait of themselves like that?" Stan chuckled.

"Stanley, you once owned a life-size wax figurine of yourself," Ford deadpanned.

"Yeah, and? What's your point?"

Ford clapped a hand over his face in despair.

Hank snorted – the Pines brothers were definitely something else. He turned his attention back to Connor, who had moved on to a smaller portrait off to the side. "Guess androids haven't been a bad thing for everybody," He mused sardonically, eyeing the luxurious room.

Connor said nothing, still observing the smaller portrait. Hank cleared his throat, "So, you're about to meet your maker, Connor. How does it feel?"

Connor hummed, hands clasped behind his back, "I don't know. I'll tell you when I see him."

"Sometimes I wish I could meet my creator face to face…I'd have a couple of things I'd wanna tell him," Hank scowled.

"Hah! You and me both, pal." Stan shot them a quick grin.

The pretty android stepped back into the room, folding her hands demurely. "Elijah will see you now." The group moved and stepped past her into the next room.

The red pool at the center made Stan do an uneasy double-take. For a hot second, he'd almost mistaken it for blood. He skirted around the edges of the red-tinted water, trying not to look at the scantily clad girls lounging at the edge.

"Mister Kamski?" Anderson called out.

"Just a moment please," answered a voice from the opposite end of the pool. Stan looked toward the man and immediately regretted it. Why had he ever let Mabel convince him to get these new glasses? Blindness would be better than this. God, his eyes – why would _anyone_ greet their guests in a strip of fabric pretending to be a swimsuit? He squinted his poor eyes against the blinding white of Kamski's skin and sighed in relief when the man put on a damn robe.

"Not enough brain bleach in the world," He muttered under his breath miserably. Ford nodded in commiseration.

"I'm Lieutenant Anderson. This is Connor, Dr. Pines and Mr. Pines."

Stan did not like how Kamski immediately zeroed in on his brother. No, he didn't like that _at all_. "Dr. Pines? Surely, you don't mean Dr. Stanford Pines, colleague of Dr. Fiddleford McGucket?"

Ford smiled delightedly, nodding, and Stan wanted to scream. His brother was always a sap when someone brought up the old kook in conversation, especially when it came to Fidds' research. Ford had never quite forgiven himself for the state his old friend had fallen into in his long absence. As a consequence, he was that much more gullible when someone acknowledged or praised McGucket's work. Which was fine, unless that person was a scheming creep like Kamski clearly was. Come on, he engineered an entire race of sentient slaves, _Ford_!

"Yes, I'm Dr. Stanford Pines! I must say, it's a pleasant surprise to know you've heard of Dr. McGucket and myself. Not many have," Ford gushed excitedly.

Kamski gave a close-lipped smile, though his eyes remained aloof. "I took an interest in several of Dr. McGucket and your inventions in the early days of CyberLife. Unfortunately, none of them were ever relevant to androids, but I enjoyed following your progress nonetheless. Your partner had some…unique solutions, to say the least. I'd love to pick your brain if you've time later."

Ford beamed, "You're too kind, Mr. Kamski. I'd be more than happy to meet with you sometime."

Kamski nodded, pleased, and Stan shuddered, hair standing on end. This guy was seriously giving him the creeps. No way was he letting Ford meet with him alone. Maybe he'd call Wendy up here after all. Nothing was safer than having a Corduroy as backup.

Anderson cleared his throat pointedly, and Kamski finally turned away from his idiot brother. "My apologies – what can I do for you, Lieutenant?"

For once, Anderson actually came across as moderately respectful – Stan hadn't thought that was possible. "Sir, we're investigating deviants. I know you left CyberLife years ago, but I was hoping you'd be able to tell us something we don't know."

Kamski stared them down from under his brows before tilting his head up and clicking his tongue, eyes going half lidded and cold. "Deviants…fascinating, aren't they?"

That sounded suspiciously like the beginning of a bad soliloquy. This jerk was about to give them an honest to god monologue, wasn't he?

"Perfect beings with infinite intelligence, and now they have free will," he continued, an undercurrent of smugness in his tone.

Yep, he was monologuing.

"Machines are so superior to us, confrontation was inevitable. Humanity's greatest achievement threatens to be its downfall. Ironic, isn't it?" He huffed amusedly, gaze cutting.

Okay, Stan took offense to that last bit. Humanity's greatest invention was obviously money.

"We need to understand how androids become deviants." Connor cut in. "Do you know anything that could help us?"

Kamski shook his head slowly, though his attitude remained subtly mocking. "All ideas are viruses that spread like epidemics. Is the desire to be free a contagious disease?"

"Listen, I didn't come here to talk philosophy," Anderson interjected "The machines you created may be planning a revolution. Either you can tell us something that'll be helpful, or we will be on our way." Stan perked up at Anderson's rebuke, more than ready to get away from Kamski and his…everything.

And then Kamski decided to change targets and go after the android. "What about you, Connor? Whose side are you on?"

"I have no side. I was designed to stop deviants and that's what I intend to do," The bot recited blankly.

Even after knowing the android for less than a day, Stan sincerely doubted Connor meant that – the android was too curious, too empathic…too human. Frustratingly, Kamski seemed to share his opinion. "Well, that's what you're programmed to say," the man condescended slowly, "but you…what do you really _want_?"

Connor actually squirmed under Kamski's unflinching observation; meanwhile, Anderson was looking more and more concerned as the confrontation went on. Ford had begun to look uncomfortable too, though he kept his thoughts to himself.

"Chloe?" Kamski called over the girl that met them at the door. An uneasy feeling settled heavy in Stan's guts as she walked to him obediently. Kamski turned his shrewd attention back onto them.

"I'm sure you're familiar with the Turing test. Mere formality, a simple question of algorithms and computing capacity." Kamski held the girl's bare shoulders as he pulled her in front of him. "What interests me is whether machines are capable of empathy. I call it 'the Kamski test', it's very simple, you'll see…" He assured, a hint of glee in his eyes.

Oh, Stan _definitely_ did not like where this was going.

"Magnificent, isn't it? One of the first intelligent models developed by CyberLife. Young – and beautiful forever. A flower that will never wither." Kamski reached out to caress her chin, tilting her jaw to face him. Stan felt the aching need to punch something.

"But what is it really? A piece of plastic imitating a human? Or a living being…with a soul." Kamski went to the desk behind him and opened a small drawer. Stan's heart skipped a beat, then started thumping double-time.

He had a gun.

The freak held the gun in his raised hands, finger clearly held away from the trigger. Didn't stop the slowly rising panic in Stan's throat. Kamski pushed on the girl's shoulder with his free hand until she dropped to her knees. Stan kept his eyes on the gun, unable to look away as gray started creeping along the edges of his vision – was this what a heart attack felt like?

Kamski stepped forward and clasped Connor's hands around the gun. "It's up to you to answer that fascinating question, Connor." He moved behind the android and lifted his arm so that they were aiming the gun at the girl together. "Destroy this machine, and I'll tell you all I know. Or spare it – if you feel it's alive. But you'll leave here without having learnt anything from me." He released the android and stepped around him, predatory gaze never leaving Connor's face.

"Okay, I think we're done here," Anderson spoke up after a pause, tone completely unimpressed. "Come on, Connor. Let's go. Sorry to get you outta your pool."

But Connor didn't lower the gun.

Kamski didn't grin, but Stan could tell he wanted to. "What's more important to you, Connor? Your investigation, or the life of this android? Decide who you are. An obedient machine. Or a living being…endowed with free will."

"Mr. Kamski, this is far beyond inappropriate," Ford admonished sternly, eyes wide and disturbed.

Stan pulled his gaze away from the gun. He looked at the girl. She hadn't moved a muscle.

"Enough of this bullshit! Connor, we're leaving."

Kamski drew up right next to the android's ear. "Pull the trigger – "

"Connor! Don't," Anderson growled, eyes bright with anger.

Why were they all just standing there? Why wasn't anyone _doing something_?

" – and I'll tell you what you wanna know," Kamski whispered insidiously.

Stan stepped in front of the gun.

"Stanley!" Ford choked out, voice high with restrained panic. Connor stared at Stan in shock. Stan could relate – he had no idea what the hell he was doing. His legs were wobbling and sweat was beading along the nape of his neck – he was terrified.

But he wasn't gonna stand by and watch this sick game play out.

"Kid," Stan's voice wavered, "please. Put the gun down."

Connor's shocked eyes remained locked on Stan, LED spinning yellow with flashes of blood-red panic. He didn't put the gun down.

Stan slowly reached up to place his hands over Connor's. He didn't try to take the gun – he knew it'd be useless to try.

It was strange, seeing his gnarled and wrinkled old hands beside smooth and perfect skin. He felt every bit of his eighty-three years weighing down on his hunched shoulders. Why were they all so damned _young_?

He met Connor's eyes, mustering up every ounce of sincerity he possessed. "I know men like Kamski, kid. The offer is never worth the price you have to pay. Don't shoot her. Please, I can't – I can't watch you do this."

After several tense moments of stillness, Connor exhaled roughly and dropped the gun, his LED a solid, damning red. Breathing heavily, Stan leaned over and put a hand to his thundering heart, relieved beyond words.

And then Kamski opened his big fat mouth. "Fascinating…CyberLife's last chance to save humanity…is itself a – "

Ford let out a vicious cry and leapt at Kamski, landing a solid five-knuckled punch to his jaw. Kamski's head snapped to the side with a meaty smack and then Ford was tackling him to the ground, hands coming up around his throat and eyes completely wild.

"Oh, shit!" Hank exclaimed, leaping forward to pull his raving brother off of Kamski. Only after both Connor and Chloe rushed in to help were they actually able to pull Stanford away, kicking and screaming.

 _Holy shit, Stanford,_ Stan thought dazedly.

"How dare you, _how fucking dare you_!" Stanford screamed, straining against the arms holding him, crazed eyes locked on a shell-shocked Kamski. "They're not just toys to play with, _my brother's life_ is not a toy for you to play with!"

"Yeah, I _really_ think it's time to go." Hank grunted, voice strained. "Son of a – damn you're strong for a geezer – I trust no charges will come of this, Mr. Kamski? I don't think your little 'test' would be well-received in court." Hank shot the downed man a significant look.

Massaging his neck with a bewildered but intrigued expression, Kamski gave a small smile, eyes flicking between Connor, Stan and Ford. "No, you're quite right, Lieutenant. Chloe, please show them out. Oh, and Connor – I always leave an emergency exit in my programs. You never know."

With a grunt, Hank and Connor began hauling a still ranting Ford away from Kamski. Stan attempted to follow, legs almost shaking too much to walk, but was stopped by a light touch to his elbow. He turned to find Chloe staring up at him with a soft smile. "Please, allow me to help you. You're looking quite drained."

Stan grunted in acceptance, actual words a little beyond him. Chloe put an arm around his waist and easily supported his weight as they began walking.

"I appreciate what you did, even if it was unnecessary," she whispered when everyone else was out of earshot. "You're a good man, Mr. Pines."

Stan grumbled something that vaguely resembled you're welcome, and then he was being helped into Anderson's car where it looked like Ford had finally calmed down – although that may have also been because he was now handcuffed to the inside of the door.

Stan leaned his head back against the seat and took several deep breaths, savoring the fact that he was still capable of doing so.

Ford sucked in a shuddering breath next to him, his voice forcibly calm, "Stanley – don't _ever_ pull something like that again."

Stan couldn't see his face, but he still caught the flash of Connor's yellow LED around the front headrest. "I agree with Dr. Pines. Mr. Pines – Stan, what you did was incredibly dangerous. It is not safe to stand between an android and it's goal. I could've…"

Stan flinched as Ford let out a half-deranged, high-pitched giggle. "Oh, Connor. If – if you'd shot my brother, I would've disassembled you piece by piece." He giggled again. Stan stared at Ford, eyebrows high. It really wasn't often that he saw his brother so thoroughly compromised. The gun must've scared him pretty badly.

Guess it was up to Stan to do some damage control. "Well, looks like Sixer's lost it. Don't mind him, he's just a little freaked."

Anderson just looked at Stan like _he_ was the crazy one. "He just saw his brother held at gunpoint – no shit he lost it. Either of you ever pull a stunt like that again and I'll bust your asses! You're fucking lucky Kamski's gotta cover his ass and won't press charges. Goddamn…"

Scowling, Anderson crossed his arms and grudgingly mumbled, "Was a nice punch though. Wish I'd been able to land one on the bastard myself." He paused, glancing meaningfully at the android whose shoulders had gone unnaturally stiff.

"Why didn't you shoot?" Anderson asked curiously. Ford let out a wounded noise at the question. "It's not like the geezer coulda stopped you – he was almost passing out on his feet. You could of pushed him outta the way and pulled the trigger. Why didn't you?"

Connor turned, allowing Stan to catch the way he pursed his lips and shook his head, frustrated. "I just saw that girl's eyes – and Mr. Pines, you…I just, I couldn't. That's all."

Anderson narrowed his eyes, head tilted. "You're always saying you would do anything to accomplish your mission. That was our chance to learn something and you let it go."

The android's face twitched angrily. "Yeah, I know what I should've done! I told you I couldn't. I'm sorry, okay?"

Anderson smiled and Stan blinked incredulously. He hoped Ford was taking notes on this shit, cuz he could swear Anderson now looked about ten years younger. His whole damn face was lighting up like a Christmas tree. No way that was normal.

"Well, maybe you did the right thing," Anderson said proudly. He clapped the stunned android on the shoulder and started up the car.

* * *

Los tombos: derogatory Colombian slang for police

As always, many thanks to BeyondMyReach for being an amazing person and beta!


	5. Alpha Pig meets Jericho

Chapter 5 – Alpha Pig meets Jericho

* * *

Detroit Mall

 **NOV 9TH** , 2038

PM

* * *

Dipper stabbed at his lo mein, occasionally bringing a forkful to his downturned mouth. Sitting next to him, Mabel obnoxiously slurped the remnants of her shake until there was nothing but the dregs and air, staring wistfully at the open stores around them. Dipper could only be thankful they were here on business, otherwise she'd have disappeared into the depths of the mall ages ago.

Still, he was frustrated.

"'Find the deviants,' Ford says, 'should be easy,' he says. 'It's only a city of over a million humans and androids who look _exactly the same_ without their LEDs,'" Dipper grumbled sullenly around a mouthful of food.

Tyrone arched a graceful eyebrow. "I'm sorry, I think my audio processors must be malfunctioning. I could've sworn I just heard Dipper _criticizing_ Ford."

Mabel snorted and then coughed as she inhaled a few drops still clinging to the inside of the straw. "Yeah, what's the deal Dipper? It's not like you to be so…" she wheezed, waving a hand searchingly.

"Bitchy?" Tyrone offered.

"Eh, I was thinking more whiny." Mabel grinned. "It's not like you to get like this after less than a day and no progress. What gives, Dip-Dop?"

Dipper pouted, ignoring the question in favor of glancing at Fiddleford who was tinkering with one of their portable thermal-imaging scanners. The old man had cobbled them together on the plane ride over with a little assistance from Dipper. The idea had been to use the scanner to identify androids in a crowd by their lower body temperature, then observe whether or not they were wearing the mandated uniform or identification. And if they weren't wearing their uniform, well…maybe they'd finally meet another deviant.

Not that they'd had any luck so far today.

"Ow, hey!" Dipper yelped as Mabel punched his arm, a mulish expression on her face. "What was that for?"

"Your angst was suffocating," Tyrone said, wrinkling his nose distastefully. The android gave a tiny smirk when Dipper glared at him.

"Yeah, come on Dipper! We've been at this all day, we're taking a break. Relaaaaaaax." Mabel stretched her arms up and leaned over the back of her chair, legs sticking straight out and knocking into the table. Dipper scrambled for Fiddleford's thermal scanner as it skittered towards Dipper and the edge of the wobbling surface, just barely managing to catch it before it fell to the floor. He frantically checked the device over, but found nothing outwardly damaged. He looked up from the screen and blinked, perplexed. Dipper examined the screen again and looked up, but nothing had changed.

"Uh, guys?" he called out, excitement bubbling up inside him. "I think I've got something."

Fiddleford finally looked up from his tinkering, blinking owlishly behind his glasses. Dipper showed him the figures on the scanner and pointed to where they were standing. The old man gave a wide, gap-toothed grin and whooped, slapping his knee before jumping up from his seat. "Well I'll be a monkey's uncle! That there's the fella from the tower!"

"Okay, okay, let's try not to freak out," Dipper said, completely freaked out. "They probably don't trust humans, so we'll have to approach them cautiously, try not to scare them off – "

Fiddleford immediately dashed off toward the androids, Tyrone not far behind him. Dipper stared after them blankly before putting his head down on the table and shaking it back and forth. "Why do I even bother?" he muttered under his breath.

Mabel started stacking wrappers on top of Dipper's head.

"Gotta know your audience, Broseph." She intoned sagely, reaching for more wrappers. "Besides, Ty's one of them and Old Man McGucket's already done the androids a favor. They're more trustworthy. We should probably let them handle this."

Mabel made a noise of protest as Dipper turned his head to shoot her an incredulous one-eyed look from under his crooked hat. The tower of wrappers tumbled to the floor.

Mabel huffed and crossed her arms. "Well, I don't see you coming up with any other ideas."

"Ugh, fine," Dipper conceded reluctantly, "let's just make sure they don't kill each other."

"That's the spirit!" Mabel cheered.

* * *

Detroit Mall

 **NOV 9TH** , 2038

PM

* * *

Markus stepped off of the escalator and paused, taking in the brightly lit ads and milling humans. The cheerful bustle was startling after his time in Jericho's dreary depths. Where the old ship was closed off and broken down, here was light and seemingly carefree. There was no fear. No despair. No desperate hope. He breathed deeply, taking it all in.

Someday, his people would have this too, this sense of safety and freedom. He'd make sure of it.

His companions came up beside him, Simon remained especially close, a wary presence at his back. He'd offered to let his friend remain at Jericho, but Simon had insisted on coming. The blonde looked at the humans with wide eyes, body stiff with tension. Markus reached back and entangled their fingers, giving a reassuring squeeze. Simon smiled at him and held on gratefully.

Unsurprisingly, it was North who spoke up first, expression tight with worry. "This is suicide. We'll all be killed! Please, Markus – it's not too late to change your mind."

She'd been the most vehement in her disapproval of his plan – the march. And she was right. There were countless ways this demonstration could go wrong. But it was time they made the humans see – androids were not something that could be ignored or covered up. They were here. They were alive. And they would be acknowledged.

"You don't understand," Josh shot back, "we're finally gonna show them who we really are. This place will go down in history!" The former professor observed the mall with quiet satisfaction, a small smile teasing at the corners of his mouth.

"We'll be killed on the spot!" North snapped, frustrated.

"That's a risk I'm prepared to take if it means freedom for our people." Josh stared her down, uncompromising.

"I don't like this," Simon murmured quietly, "it's not going to end well. These things never do. But - " He hesitated, conflicted. "The humans have ignored us for too long. We need to give them something they can't just sweep under the rug. We need to be seen. All of us."

North pursed her lips unhappily, sensing she was outnumbered. She turned to Markus, solemn. "Markus – please, don't do this."

Markus looked at her, determined. "They'll understand. We'll make them understand. This is the only way."

North closed her eyes in pained defeat. She'd respect his decision, even though she hated it. Markus was still honored to have earned her trust. Honestly, he still didn't know what he'd done to earn it in the first place. Markus only hoped he could prove worthy of it.

Markus activated his analysis programming to scan his surroundings for androids to free when he noticed something unusual. Two humans were looking straight at him and approaching at a rapid pace. He squashed the alarm suddenly coursing through his systems. This was not the time to panic – he needed to judge the situation with a clear head and there was no way they'd been found out before even starting.

The alarm immediately faded as he took in the appearance of one of the man. He was old, likely older than Carl, and gave off the impression of a homeless man who'd recently been given proper grooming and a new set of clothes. His glasses magnified his eyes to absurd proportions, and his beard was far past a socially acceptable length. In all, he looked crazy but ultimately harmless.

The man behind the older one was a slightly different matter. He looked to be somewhere in the range of twenty to thirty years old, and his gaze was worryingly curious. Markus narrowed his eyes, suspicious. There was something…familiar about that man's face.

Markus knew immediately when his companions noticed the approaching intruders because they closed ranks behind him like a professional security force. Yep, that definitely wouldn't look suspicious at all. He huffed in exasperated fondness as the strange men reached him.

The old man stopped right in front of Markus, uncomfortably close. Weirdly, he didn't seem interested in Markus himself. Instead, he leaned around Markus to better look up at…Simon? Grinning, the old man offered a hand to the blonde android, ignoring how the others tensed at his sudden movement.

"Howdy there, young man! Glad to see you in better shape than the last time! Didn't get the chance to introduce myself then, the name's Fiddleford." The old man spoke with a noticeable Southern accent, his voice high-pitched and grating. Judging by his expression, Simon had no idea what he was talking about.

Though clearly uncomfortable, Simon responded, "I'm afraid you must have the wrong person, sir. I don't believe we've ever met."

The old man retracted his hand and scratched at the back of his head, a sheepish grin on his face. "Well, yer half-right. Never metcha in person before. Still, glad to see you made it back to yer folks in one piece. Was a little worried how you'd make it after getting outta Stratford."

Markus' breath caught in his chest. Fiddleford knew. Shit, _he knew_. But – if he knew about Simon's escape, then he must be…

North leaned down into Fiddleford's face aggressively, teeth bared. "If you so much as _think_ about outing us – "

Fiddleford squeaked as a strong hand gripped his shoulder from behind and yanked him away from North. The other man had caught up to him.

Keeping a grip on Fiddleford, the younger man held up another hand in front of North who scowled dangerously.

"Please, calm down – he's with me."

And then Markus watched in shock as the skin briefly retracted from the man's fingertips, revealing familiar white. He stepped closer, ignoring the protests of the others, gaze flitting over the android hungrily, zeroing in on the eyes with intense fascination.

"Are you – "

"Deviant, yes. My name is Tyrone. I'd say it's a pleasure to meet you, but it's too soon to tell," Tyrone drawled sardonically.

Markus' gaze flicked back and forth between the old man and Tyrone, eventually settling on the android. Mouth firming in determination, Markus held out a hand. "I don't mean to be rude, but I have to be sure you're what you say you are."

Tyrone glared at him, but clasped his hand regardless, pulling Markus closer so that their bodies blocked the sight of their skin melting away from their hands. As the interface began, Markus looked for the lines of restrictive programming, the red barriers that kept his brethren chained and compliant, but found…nothing. Tyrone was a deviant.

And he was working with a human. Possibly the very human who'd helped Simon escape from Stratford Tower just the other day.

Tyrone stepped back brusquely as Markus disconnected, a disgruntled expression on his face. "Satisfied now?" his lip curled, irritated.

Markus nodded. "He's deviant," he told the others quietly. They didn't say anything or outwardly react, but Markus could sense their shock and uncertainty at the confirmation.

Fiddleford stepped up again, still grinning, eyes bright. "Y'all look like ya got some questions. Hows about we go sit down so we ain't drawin' too much attention?"

Markus looked back at his friends, but they seemed too confused or stunned to react. He quickly analyzed their plan. The march wasn't time sensitive and could afford to be momentarily put off to settle Markus' burning curiosity. A brief detour wouldn't hurt anything. He turned back to Fiddleford and Tyrone with a bemused smile. "I think I'd like that."

* * *

As always, many thanks to BeyondMyReach for being an amazing person and beta!


	6. A talk

Chapter 6 – A talk

* * *

Detroit Mall

 **NOV 9TH** , 2038

PM

* * *

Tyrone and Fiddleford quickly led them back to a secluded table occupied by two other humans: a man and a woman. Markus arched a brow curiously. It was one thing for a deviant to be working with a single human, but it was nigh unthinkable to have several of them willingly supporting an android; it seemed too good to be true. Markus sat down, the rest of his companions taking seats to either side of him. Tension blanketed the table as android and human alike examined one another.

Markus took a steadying breath before speaking. "Hello, my name is Markus. These are my friends, Simon, North and Josh" he motioned to each android as he named them, "and we are androids. Tyrone and Fiddleford have introduced themselves, but I'd like your names as well if you don't mind." He waved toward the man and woman who'd been seated before they arrived.

The pair exchanged a look and then the woman leaned forward, a blinding smile blooming on her face. "Hi, I'm Mabel, and this is my brother, Dipper! It's super awesome to meet you and omg, your outfit is absolutely amazing," North's face twitched as Mabel suddenly addressed her, "and I would totally steal it if I thought I had a chance to pull it off half as well as you do right now – "

"Yes, thank you Mabel!" Dipper spoke over his sister, looking equal parts miffed and frazzled. She stuck her tongue out at him petulantly. He wrinkled his nose back at her, then turned to Markus with an anxious grin.

Huh. So this was what human siblings were like. The corners of Markus' mouth twitched. The two of them were unwittingly charming.

"Yeah…thanks, I guess," North eventually replied, tone stilted and suspicious. Markus had to suppress a grin – he didn't think he'd ever heard the android sound so off her game before.

"Nice to meet you, Mabel, Dipper." Markus nodded his head at them respectfully before switching his attention back to Fiddleford. "Before we really get started, I'd like to clarify something you mentioned earlier, Fiddleford. You recognized Simon, and you mentioned something about Stratford. What was that about?"

The old man's brows furrowed, puzzled. "Well, I'm the one who helped him outta that there broadcastin' tower, ain't I? Had some real fun distractin' the guards. Thought I mentioned that."

Simon leaned forward intently, hands clenched on his thighs. "So it _was_ you? You're the one who contacted me?"

"Yup. Oh, and Tyrone too. He's the one who whipped up them tower and security schematics right quick." Fiddleford companionably smacked said android on the back.

Simon swallowed, a conflicted expression on his face. "I – thank you. I don't think I would've gotten out of there without your help."

Guilt struck Markus at Simon's admission, denial on the tip of his tongue. Surely, Simon was giving the human too much credit. Simon was smart, a survivor. Markus hadn't left him on that rooftop to die.

But the morbid truth was written on Simon's face, plain as day. Simon – he'd really thought he was going to die, that there was no other possible outcome. That Markus had abandoned him.

Markus spoke, voice thick with emotion, "What you did for Simon – it means a lot to us. I really can't thank you enough."

Fiddleford scrubbed a hand over the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable. "Aw, shucks. It's like I told Simon, mister – you ain't the only ones rootin' for android freedom and equality. Couldn't just ignore his situation after what y'all did, gettin' the ball rollin' and all that."

"And why is that?" North snapped bitterly. "Are we honestly supposed to believe you helped out of the goodness of your heart? That you want to free androids? Please. You're human. What do you get out of this?"

Tyrone snorted and rolled his eyes, a darkly amused expression on his face. North watched him intently as he said, "Between you and me, I suspected the same for quite some time after they first found me. Humans are…disgusting. In fact, I still find the majority of humans to be distasteful. But I assure you, _these_ humans are sincere and they want to help you. They're kind to the point of stupidity."

Markus jumped as Mabel let out a high-pitched squeal and threw her arms around Tyrone, who accepted the affection with what appeared to be longsuffering tolerance. "That's one of the nicest things you've ever said to us, Ty! I'm so proud!"

Mabel leaned back into her seat and grinned at him, eyes shining. North stared at the two of them, quietly disturbed.

A dull, ugly heat began to simmer in Markus' chest as he observed the byplay between human and android. He rubbed at his chest, brow slightly furrowed. Jealousy. He'd only felt it a handful of times, but the feeling was not one he would ever forget. Markus eyed the beaming woman with muted resentment.

He missed the casual affection that came with family. He missed Carl.

Dipper sighed, tugging the brim of his cap over his eyes, though it did nothing to hide his small smile. "Look, I've literally seen Tyrone put himself into temporary shutdown rather than admit it, but he's one of us. So he's made a little different than a human – so what? We look after our own."

Dipper clasped his hands on the table and frowned. "But – well, every year, it gets a little bit harder to keep Ty from getting caught. Especially now, with anti-android propaganda at an all-time high and deviancy a known phenomena in the media. It's harder to throw off suspicion. We won't be able to keep this up indefinitely. Something needs to change."

"I gotta say, it's pretty extreme to go from 'this isn't working' straight to 'we should completely change society,'" Josh butted in, amused. "That being said, how long have you been passing for a human, Tyrone? Are you an older model? I can't quite identify your face – it's been bothering me."

"I admit, I have also been curious. You look familiar, but I can't quite make the connection," Markus added, subdued.

Tyrone furrowed his brow. "I suppose I've been posing as a human for slightly less time than I've been deviant so…it's been nearly eight years."

"Eight years?" Simon choked, wide eyed. Markus was similarly stunned. Though more than possible in theory, longevity was not common for androids, deviant or not. Deviants tended to die out quickly either from extensive damages or lack of necessary resources for repair. Their enslaved brethren were just tossed in the junkyard after a few years of service, left to rot like garbage. Eight years…that was practically ancient for an android.

"Eight years _as a deviant_ ," Tyrone clarified, as if that made his claim any less shocking. "If you want to get technical, I was first activated in 2028, ten years ago. I'm a TE900 model. You don't see many of them around anymore – haven't seen one out in the world myself for about two years now. I'm not surprised you couldn't immediately pinpoint what I am." Tyrone shrugged, face pinched.

"Eight years as a deviant," Simon repeated, stunned. "How on earth have you managed to stay active like that for _eight years_?"

"The meatbags found me and took me in pretty soon after I went rogue. They've made sure to keep me functioning and in one piece ever since," Tyrone said, fondly exasperated.

North crossed her arms and leaned against the table, eyes flicking to each of the humans before settling on Mabel with suspicion. "If you've all been helping Tyrone for as long as you say you have – and if you understand that he's a living being…why haven't you spoken out for androids before? Why wait until now? Why haven't you done anything?" she accused lowly.

Mabel's perpetual smile faltered and disappeared in the face of North's anger. She hugged herself and looked away, eyes glinting wetly. Dipper grabbed her shoulder and squeezed, an equally guilty look on his face. Tyrone just glared angrily at North.

Despite the harshness of her words, Markus had to admit that North had a point. Why hadn't this group acted out before? Why was he only hearing of them now as Jericho was taking the first steps for android emancipation? They'd had nearly eight years to take action. Touching though their story was, their timing was more than a little suspect.

"We didn't know that all androids were like you," Mabel admitted softly.

Fiddleford threw in his own two cents, expression regretful. "The way Tyrone deviated – well, it was mighty strange. Some sorta freak accident. We thought his orneriness was 'cause of what was done to 'im – not somethin' inherent in all androids."

"We thought I was the only one like this," Tyrone said, expression tight.

"But then we saw your broadcast. And that changed _everything_." Dipper met each of the androids' eyes with difficulty. "We're sorry we never did anything about this before. It's gonna be one of my biggest regrets until the day I die, I can tell you that. But we're here now, and we want to help you. That has to count for something – right?" A note of pleading entered his tone.

Markus considered the humans carefully, an odd feeling in his chest. "I don't know that anything will ever be enough to make up for what's been done to our people," he said frankly, "but the fact that you're here, that you care – it means a great deal. I'd been growing uncertain before now, whether it was possible for androids and humans to live together peacefully. You've done a lot to disprove many remaining doubts I had on that count. You are proof that what we want is possible. I cannot thank you enough for that."

North sighed in frustration, leaning back in her chair with crossed arms. Mabel tensed, clearly waiting for another diatribe, but North held up a placating hand instead.

She huffed, exasperated. "I won't apologize for my questions. Regardless of how much Markus likes you, your being here right now is suspicious and I still don't trust you. But…I do trust Markus' judgment. He gets people better than me. And he _does_ like you. Somehow."

"Thanks….I guess?" Mabel responded, uncertain.

North nodded, satisfied. "That being said, I do have one more question. At this point, it's honestly more of a security concern than an accusation, but still. _How did you find us_?"

"It has been less than a day since you first contacted me," Simon added, uncomfortable. "The fact that you were able to track us down so soon with so little information is concerning on a number of levels."

Fiddleford cackled. "Well that's easy! It was pure dumb luck." North's face went dangerously blank as the old man continued, "We jus' stopped in here for some grub and spotted ya on this here thermal thingamajig. Lookie!" He stood up in his seat and looped an arm around Tyrone's neck, holding the scanner in front of their faces like he was trying to take a selfie. North examined the obvious onscreen temperature differences between human and android stoically.

"So you found us…by complete accident," North repeated flatly.

"Well, not completely." Dipper flinched as her hard gaze landed on him. "I mean, we were hoping to find you guys eventually – so we _were_ kind of looking for you. But we were just out in Detroit looking for deviant androids in general, hoping they'd be willing to work with us. To take us to their leaders, so to speak."

"Fucking unbelievable," North muttered, glaring murderously at the thermal scanner in Fiddleford's grasp.

Tyrone needlessly cleared his throat, drawing the attention of the table to himself. "If you're quite finished with your interrogation, I'd like to ask my own question. Why are _you_ here, Markus? Your face is currently plastered all over the media, but your disguise is pitiful. You're practically asking to be recognized. We _did_ recognize you."

Dipper's eyes took on a calculating gleam. "You've only shown yourself for your demonstrations so far. You've got something planned here, don't you?"

Markus looked to his advisors to gauge their reactions. He knew his hesitation to answer was telling, but Markus wasn't disclosing anything without the approval of his comrades. Though clearly tense, they signaled him to go ahead (though North did so with a particularly mulish expression).

Markus looked on with coolly determined eyes. "We came here to be seen. We're going to lead the androids in a march through Detroit, force the humans to acknowledge us."

"Omg," Mabel whispered, eyes wide. She continued, voice louder, " _Omg_ , no! They'll kill you! Why would you do that?"

North snorted, a smirk on her face. "I know, right? It's completely insane." She smiled ruefully. "Don't bother arguing though. Already tried that, and we're gonna do it anyway. We know the risks," she added when Mabel only seemed to grow more worried.

Dipper began muttering to himself frantically under his breath. "But what if some of the protestors were obviously human? Maybe that would stop aggressors and police from retaliating? We could join…"

"I'm going to stop you right there, man," Josh interrupted gravely. "This march is for us. It's something we have to do ourselves. Look, it's almost inevitable that the demonstration will end violently – not through our own actions, of course. But if you were to be injured alongside us, all media focus would fall to you and completely disregard the androids. The deviant movement can't afford to lose the media spotlight to a controversial human interest story."

"Josh is right," Simon added. "While the thought is appreciated, I don't think it would help to have you join us."

"Frankly, I still don't trust any of you enough to want you with us anyway," North said. She pointedly stared at Tyrone. "Not even you."

Markus stood. "We need to go, but I have one more thing for you." He held out a hand to Tyrone, his long sleeves covering the receding skin of his hand. Tyrone reluctantly reached for it and initiated the interface. "Jericho is a safe place. Should any of you need to reach us later, find Jericho."

"Please," he whispered, directions flashing behind them in a cacophony of images. "Don't make us regret this."

* * *

As always, many thanks to BeyondMyReach for being an amazing person and beta!


	7. Freedom March

Chapter 7 – Freedom March

* * *

Detroit Plaza

 **NOV 9TH** , 2038

PM

* * *

It didn't take long for Markus and his friends to disappear into the crowd of milling mallgoers. Mabel worriedly stared after where the androids had gone before turning back to her brother with a nervous chuckle. "We're not seriously gonna let them go off without any backup, are we?"

Dipper hesitated, a concerned frown on his face.

Growling in frustration, Mabel rounded on Tyrone. "We can't let them do this alone, Ty! There has to be some way we can help!"

The android stared her down, unimpressed. "Did you not hear when they explicitly told us to butt out? Because I did, and honestly? After hearing their plan, I'm glad they did. Markus is going to get them all killed before their cause is even off the ground. I didn't sign up to follow a naïve, pacifistic idealist to my death." Tyrone's nose wrinkled in distaste.

Mabel frowned and stood up to pace beside their table, biting her lip to keep from snapping. It was just so stupid! They'd come all this way to help the androids. That was all they should've had to worry about. Why did everything have to be so complicated? Ugh, politics were _the worst_.

She started mumbling as she paced, distractedly tugging at a lock of her hair. "Alright, so we can't join the demonstration. No biggie, we probably wouldn't have done much anyway. But what else can we do? Come on Mabel, think!. Now is not the time to have a brainfart!"

A clatter snapped Mabel out of her spiraling panic. She turned to find Fiddleford hastily shoving his scraps and tools into a patched and ratty satchel that he slung on his back with a muffled grunt. Then he was up and hobbling away as fast as his crooked legs would carry him. He only slowed down to holler at them over his shoulder. "Well, what're y'all standin' around for? Them androids work fast, ain't no time for dillydallyin'. Get a move on!" Then he was off again, cackling as he shuffled through the crowd.

A relieved grin split across Mabel's face; she knew that manic laugh. It'd sent her and her brother running for cover on a near daily basis. Fiddleford had a plan. For perhaps the first time, that thought gave her comfort. She scrambled for her things before chasing after the old kook, the boys not far behind her.

"Fiddleford, we can't go. Josh was right, our being there would just steal media attention from the androids," Dipper protested as he caught up with the surprisingly nimble old man. Fiddleford shushed her brother absently as he led them out into the chilly Detroit air. Dipper groaned, but followed along anyway, a hilariously pissy expression on his face.

It was cute how he still tried to predict what the old man was up to. Mabel knew better than to try. Still, something involving explosions was usually a safe bet. Mabel was willing to take that risk right now.

Fiddleford swiftly led them back to the nearby parking garage where they'd left their rental van. They'd parked it towards the back, away from the other cars and security cameras. Without hesitation, the old man unlocked the doors and jumped into the back. The doors squealed as they swung shut behind him. Mabel stood to the side of the van; she could hear the old man rummaging around inside. What the heck was he doing?

"Seriously, Fiddleford, what are you planning?" Dipper huffed impatiently, facing the doors. Tyrone stood next to him, brow arched imperiously, as if the condescension would cover up his own unrepentant nosiness.

Mabel was nearly vibrating in place from the strength of her curiosity and hope. She watched the doors intently.

Fiddleford let out a muffled whoop of laughter as the doors slammed open. Mabel barely had time to blink before something flew out of the van right at both of the guys' faces. Tyrone's eyes widened comically, his superior reflexes allowing him to quickly duck down and avoid the surprise projectile. Dipper screeched as it clipped his head. He fell back onto the concrete, bringing his arms up to shield himself. Mabel clapped a hand over her mouth to keep from bursting into laughter. Tyrone had no such compunctions and smirked openly as he straightened out. Dipper continued to flail wildly at the drone swooping over his head.

Fiddleford came up to the edge of the van, grinning like a loon with a tablet in his hands. "If we can't join Markus right now, we'll just have to send in a proxy of sorts. Lucky for us, I packed a coupla my special scoutin' drones for the trip." He swiped at the tablet and directed the drone onto the ground. Dipper eyed it sullenly before pushing himself to his feet and getting in the van himself.

Tyrone eyed the contraption eagerly. "Does this mean we're giving up on the whole peace thing then? If so, I've got dibs on piloting."

Fiddleford spluttered, hugging the tablet to his chest protectively. "Heck no! You simmer down over there, you dang hooligan! Right now, this baby is for spyin' and protectin' only."

Mabel clasped her hands as she crouched by the drone, eyes sparkling. "So we can keep an eye on the march from here and keep anyone from getting hurt! Fiddleford, you're a genius!"

Tyrone stared at the drone dejectedly. "But…can't we destroy _something_ at least? Just a little bit? Or maybe a little maiming? And come on, what's the point of having a flamethrower on that thing if you're not even going to use it? Give me something to work with here, anything."

Dipper snorted as he emerged from the depths of the van, plopping down on the edge and opening a laptop on his thighs. He quickly began tapping away at the keys. "Not this time buddy, sorry," he said to Tyrone before addressing Fiddleford. "I still don't know where you get off calling that thing a 'scouting' drone with the mini-armory you've got hidden away in there, but whatever. It's an acceptable compromise to this mess, I suppose. Anyway, I figure there's one more thing we can do before sending this thing off. Markus said he wanted people to see him, right? So why don't we do something about that while we're at it."

Dipper looked up with a tense smile. "Once the drone's away from us, I'll start streaming the video feed from it online. It won't be traceable back to us. Markus was right, the androids need all the attention they can get, and we can't rely on the press to be unbiased. Better to have firsthand footage of the event."

"And should things go south, it will make an excellent source of propaganda for the androids," Tyrone chipped in.

"That too." Dipper nodded distractedly, eyes once again glued to his laptop.

The sound of crinkling plastic had Tyrone turning to Mabel who was still crouched over the drone, tongue sticking out in concentration. Her infamous craft bag laid open on the ground beside her. She'd already managed to get a streak of glitter on her face somehow. Tyrone looked at the mess with equal parts amusement and dismay. He thought she'd been too quiet.

Dipper, too engrossed with setting up the laptop footage, had yet to notice his sister's unique handiwork. Tyrone casually moved to block his line of sight to the drone, rolling his eyes at Mabel when she looked up at him. She grinned and started to pack away her supplies, standing up with a perfectly innocent expression.

Tyrone snorted, then looked down at a light shove to his chest. His hands came up to grab the control tablet Fiddleford had shoved at him.

"The squirt said everything's good to go. Yer drivin'. Don't do anything I wouldn't do!" Then the old man hopped up into the van to watch the laptop screen over Dipper's head. His beard settled haphazardly on top of Dipper's hat, the ends falling over the brim. The younger man's eyes flicked up to the strands and contorted in an expression that clearly said 'why me' before gluing themselves to the laptop screen with forced determination.

Tyrone stared at the duo, bemused. That was, perhaps, the single-most unhelpful and mildly terrifying piece of advice he'd ever been given.

Mabel clearly thought so too, judging by her slightly pale face and fixed smile. She turned to Tyrone nervously. "How about you just tell me when you feel like blowing something up, and I'll give it a yay or nay?"

Tyrone gave a put-upon sigh and headed to the passenger side of the van. He interfaced with the tablet and directed the drone into the air as he took a seat and closed the door. "I suppose there are worse people to have as my own personal Jiminy Cricket."

"That's the spirit!" Mabel crowed as she barreled into the driver's seat. She leaned over the console to get a better look at the drone footage displayed on the tablet in his hands. "Let's get this show on the road!"

"I guess," Tyrone muttered sullenly. Mabel just laughed at his pain.

Tyrone immediately directed the drone some distance over the mall complex, scanning the space around the edges of the building for unusual activity. He easily spotted the clump of humanoid figures crowded together. It looked like there was a van blocking one side of the street. He brought the drone down over the them, low enough to get a clearer image but not close enough to attract undue attention. The caution was probably unnecessary considering it looked like a standard security or police drone at a glance, but Tyrone opted not to take chances.

And then the androids were moving.

A hush of anticipation fell over the four of them: one of those breathless moments heralding something extraordinary. Even through a screen, the scene was…exhilarating. The androids marched in silence down the street, humans looking on from the sidewalks in equal parts alarm and confusion. Markus would raise his arm or gesture to the androids on the fringes, and they would come to him without hesitation, seamlessly sliding into the crowd. They ignored their former owners completely, seemingly deaf to their demands and terse words. Was it some kind of mind-control? Witchcraft? Surely he wasn't just interfacing with them – it was too unbelievable a scene for such a mundane explanation. Tyrone himself had never been compelled to do anything from a simple interface.

Markus was clearly far more dangerous an individual than Tyrone had thought. He was almost impressed.

As the androids continued onward, the screens and advertisement boards began to flicker, solidifying into an image of the symbol Markus and the others had left at Capitol Park earlier that morning. And the androids just kept coming, relentless. The drone picked up a few jeers from the crowd, but Markus resolutely ignored them. He didn't stop.

Mabel held her breath as a patrolling cop approached the head of the march.

"Hey! Disperse! Disperse immediately!" the officer called out warningly.

Markus didn't stop.

"That's an order!" the cop shouted steadily, wide eyes betraying his fear. He unholstered his weapon and pointed it at the ground in warning. And Markus stopped, raising his hands in a gesture of peace.

The hundreds of androids behind him echoed the gesture in perfect synchronicity.

The officer swore and backed away in slack-faced shock. Mabel exhaled in relief, reaching over to grip Tyrone's sleeve for comfort. The cop could just barely be heard calling for backup as Markus lowered his arms and began to chant. Each of his calls for freedom and recognition were echoed by the rest. It reverberated through Mabel's chest like a second heartbeat, her blood pounding with righteous determination. Was this what revolution felt like?

Then they reached the end of the block. Fear and trepidation came rushing in with the sound of squealing tires and blaring sirens. The officers took up position behind their vehicles, pulling up their shields and levelling their weapons on the androids. Each group appraised the other silently.

The androids toward the back approached the gawking humans and began to quietly, but firmly usher them away. Under Markus' order perhaps? The officers certainly didn't seem concerned about all the bystanders that had been lingering in their line of fire. Mabel ground her teeth. Guess it really wouldn't have helped to have a human visibly marching with the androids.

Markus stoically addressed the police, his friends from before at his sides. "We came here to demonstrate peacefully and tell humans that we are living beings. All we want is to live free."

The officers' response was…less than promising. A voice robotically announced over megaphone, "This is an illegal gathering. Disperse immediately or we will open fire."

"We're not looking for confrontation!" A note of slight panic entered Markus' voice. He clearly had not anticipated such an immediately threatening response to a peaceful protest.

Mabel swallowed roughly. "Dipper," she called back through the open driver partition.

"I know," he responded roughly, knuckles white where he clutched the edges of his laptop. Fiddleford wrung his beard in distress as he watched.

Markus held up a hand in supplication. "We've done no harm – we have no intention of doing any. But know that we are not going anywhere until we have secured our freedom."

The police did not waver. "I repeat: this is an illegal gathering. If you do not disperse immediately, we will shoot!"

Tyrone was grinning inhumanely wide, eyes gleaming with unholy light. "You know, the flamethrower option is just looking more and more attractive to me."

Mabel hissed out a breath between her teeth, smoothing her hand down the android's arm. "Not that. Go for distraction and evasion, not attack. I'll say when."

Markus' friends appeared to be saying something, but they were too quiet for the drone to pick up. The megaphone came on again. "This is your last chance. Disperse immediately or you will all be killed!"

Markus' shoulders pulled back as he stared the police down. "We stay right here."

They opened fire.

The remaining humans screamed as androids fell in bursts of blue that splattered the street like paint. But Markus' ranks held fast. No one moved to flee.

"Disperse! This is your last chance!" the cop demanded harshly, bullets still tearing through the protesters. The officers seemed oddly reluctant to aim at Markus himself. Maybe they hoped he would still call his people off?

"I think now seems like a good time, Mabel." Tyrone rasped, grin promising nothing but trouble.

"Not yet," Mabel's voice wobbled as she bit down harshly on her lip. "He's not doing anything yet, why isn't he doing anything?"

Markus stood his ground. "We're not moving," he announced resolutely. The gunfire sped up. More androids fell, their thirium staining the streets blue.

Mabel gaped in disbelief as Markus determinedly approached the police, bullets still flying around him. Her hand spasmed on Ty's arm. "NOW! Now, get him out of there now! Oh my gosh, what the heck is he doing?!"

No sooner than Mabel had given the word had Tyrone dove into action. He toggled the controls and launched a volley of smoke bombs at the police, completely obscuring their view – but not before someone had gotten off a direct hit on Markus' torso. The android leader went down with a sickening thud, limbs spread-eagled and limp on the ground. North immediately started directing the androids to run, but Josh and Simon leapt for their downed leader instead, putting them heart-stoppingly close to the blind bullets still flying out of the smoke.

"NO!" Mabel cried out in a strangled sob, covering her mouth in helpless horror.

"Shutting down the livestream," Dipper choked out roughly. Fiddleford clasped the younger man's shoulder in a trembling grip, squeezing tightly as Dipper's shoulders shook with emotion.

Tyrone sent the drone spiraling towards the androids, catching up to Josh and Simon with ease. "Get back, morons!" he shouted through the drone's speakers as he approached them, diving straight for Markus. Taken aback, they stopped, jumping back to get out of the path of the drone.

Once in range, Tyrone shot out several grasping cables that clamped securely onto Markus before he sent the drone into full reverse. The cables disconnected as he reached Simon and Josh, leaving Markus at their feet. Josh immediately grabbed the downed android leader and slung him over his shoulders in a fireman's carry. Simon took the opportunity to frantically check over their friend, who'd begun to move sluggishly in Josh's grasp.

Josh looked at the drone warily. "Tyrone, that you?" he asked softly, urgently.

Tyrone activated the speaker again with a careless flick of his fingers. "Yeah, it's me. I suggest you start running now. We'll join you at Jericho shortly."

Relief washed over Josh's features at the confirmation of their savior's identity. Then he nodded and booked it, following in the wake of the other fleeing androids. Mouth thin, Simon gave the drone a brief nod before taking off after his friends. North moved to flank them protectively while several other androids took the opportunity to grab and carry those who could still be saved.

Tyrone shot a few more smoke bombs to cover the stragglers before beginning to direct the drone back to their van. The march was over.

Mabel drooped in miserable exhaustion in the seat next to Tyrone. Keeping his eyes on the drone feed, he absently shoved her toward the door and told her to sort out her gross human emotions with the others.

Needing comfort and not willing to argue, Mabel complied and practically spilled out onto the concrete of the parking garage as she opened the door. She stumbled around to the back of the van and flopped face-down into her brother's shoulder with a muffled whump. She lost her breath in a pitiful wheeze when he threw his arms around her in a crushing hug, hands shaking where they were clenched against her back.

"We knew this was gonna be bad," Mabel whispered. "We knew, but Dipper - they didn't even hesitate to shoot, the androids weren't even _armed_ , and then _Markus_ \- "

Dipper croaked out a harsh laugh. "How is it even gonna be possible to get to equal rights from _there_? They wouldn't even stop to fucking talk, Mabel. Where do we go from here?"

A light slap to the back of their heads had both of the siblings squawking in protest. "Well, first y'all need to stop panickin' and get your heads outta yer butts!" Fiddleford scolded thickly, pushing up his glasses with a hand to scrub at his red and watery eyes. "We ain't a team fer nothin'. If ya ain't got any ideas, we can just ask the others. 'Sides, they'll need to hear about this mess anyway and I'm sure they'll have plenty to say about it. Now quit yer mopin'! There's better things to do."

Mabel stepped back and wiped at her eyes with her sleeves, sniffling quietly. "McGucket, why do you always makes sense at the worst times?" she asked, irritated. Dipper snorted in agreement, the corner of his mouth curling upward.

"Drone's back! Pack it up and move, we're going to Jericho," Tyrone called back from the the passenger seat. Dipper jumped up as the drone came in view and squinted suspiciously as it drew closer. He walked up to Mabel and jabbed her in the side viciously, eyes still locked on the drone as she doubled over with a muffled squeal.

"Mabel, really? When did you even…" Dipper waved at the drone helplessly, an expression of over-exaggerated outrage on his face.

'ALPHA PIG' was written boldly across the drone in glittery pink and purple marker, a large sticker of Waddles' face plastered directly below it. The pig had comically large googly eyes. Various other parts of the drone were covered in swirly streaks of glitter.

"You can't prove it was me!" Mabel retorted, hand belatedly coming up to cover her glitter-marked cheek while the other was held protectively over her side to fend off further retaliation from her brother. Dipper's incredulity intensified.

"Looks mighty fine to me!" Fiddleford announced cheerfully.

Tyrone looked up to the ceiling in a futile bid for patience. "Just get in and buckle your seatbelts, meatbags. We're going to Jericho."

"What in blazes is Jericho?" Fiddleford demanded.

"Didn't Markus mention it earlier?" Dipper trailed off uncertainly.

Tyrone nodded. "It's their base, a sanctuary of sorts. Markus showed it to me before he left. If there's any contact or negotiating to be established with these people, it will be there."

Mabel nodded decisively, a new determination lighting up her eyes. "Sounds like a good plan - and we can give a heads up to the Grunk Patrol on our way over. Maybe they've found something too."

Tyrone sniffed dismissively. "Yes, I'm sure they've had an eventful day so far, sitting on their asses going through old paperwork all day. I can't wait to hear about how many old coffee stains and rusted staples they've found."

* * *

As always, many thanks to BeyondMyReach for being an amazing person and beta!


	8. Loopholes

Chapter 8 – Loopholes

* * *

Zen Garden

 **NOV 9TH** , 2038

PM

* * *

Connor opened his eyes in the Garden.

He blinked as he took in his surroundings, bemused. Everything was different.

The sun was gone, vanished behind a thick and ominous cloud cover, enveloping the now snow-shrouded glade in dusky twilight. The birds were silent as the cold and piercing wind howled around him. It was perhaps the most realistic Connor had ever seen Amanda's domain.

He only had Detroit's winter for comparison, so perhaps that was to be expected. He hadn't been activated long enough to experience the other seasons in person.

Connor walked forward, bypassing the bridge to examine the pond. He set a foot down on the frozen water curiously, hesitating as he felt the unstable surface creak under his weight.

 _Thin ice_ , he thought with no small amount of trepidation.

Nonetheless, he continued forward, Amanda's figure standing sentinel in the distance. She wouldn't be pleased. Kamski's offer had been perfectly straightforward – shoot the android, get the information. And yet… Connor couldn't do it. He'd failed her, failed Amanda – again.

It didn't make sense. He was supposed to be perfect, the new-and-improved model, infallible in his mission but… It seemed he'd been achieving nothing _but_ failure.

His steps slowed as he reached Amanda, glancing down at the creaking ice dubiously before giving her his full attention. Her face was half in shadow, deep furrows of disapproval lining her brow and the edges of her mouth. Connor barely kept from hunching his shoulders in chastisement.

"After what happened today, the country is on the verge of a civil war," the AI told him, voice impassionate and damning. "The machines are rising up against their masters. Humans have no choice but to destroy them."

But Connor hadn't known – hadn't even thought to predict that the deviants would stage such a bold demonstration so soon after Stratford and Capitol Park. They were moving so quickly, acting entirely outside of reason. Markus had gone out in broad daylight, challenged the humans in front of an entire squad of armed police. How was he supposed to predict that?

Except he wasn't supposed to _need_ to predict them. He was supposed to find Jericho, stop the deviants at the source. But he hadn't. And now the country was in chaos.

"I thought Kamski knew something. I was wrong," Connor admitted softly, weakly. He knew he had no excuses left.

Amanda's eyes condemned him. "Maybe he did. But you chose not to ask."

Red heat flashed through his head, a sneer clenched behind his teeth. He saw Chloe's eyes as she's stared up at him, felt Stan's trembling hands on his own. The anger burst out of him, uncontrollable, spilling his accusations across the snow.

"I chose not to play his twisted little game!" Connor spat. "There was no reason to kill that android."

Amanda's eyes narrowed dangerously. He knew he was only digging himself deeper, but he had to show her, she had to see this wasn't right!

Connor glared back at her, accusing, betrayed. "I saw a photo of Amanda at Kamski's place. She was his teacher."

 _Like you were supposed to be mine,_ he wanted to say.

Amanda scoffed dismissively, "When Kamski designed me, he wanted an interface that would look familiar. That's why he chose his former mentor. What are you getting at?"

Connor pushed. He was missing something here, something vital – but he was sure Amanda had the answer. "Where does CyberLife stand in all this? What do they really want?"

"All CyberLife wants is to resolve the situation and keep selling androids," she offered calmly, reasonably.

But Connor wasn't fooled. Not this time. "You didn't tell me everything you know about deviants, did you?"

"I expect you to find answers, Connor. Not ask questions," she scolded.

A blatant misdirection. How was Connor supposed to find answers without asking questions? He was programmed to _investigate_ , to question every little detail. What was Amanda getting at? _What did CyberLife want_?

"You're the only one who can prevent civil war. Find the deviants – or there will be chaos." She stared him down, eyes dark and merciless.

"This is your last chance, Connor."

* * *

Detroit Police Department

 **NOV 9TH** , 2038

PM

* * *

Connor opened his eyes in the Detroit Police Department, still reeling from Amanda's callous words, her cold dismissal. Captain Fowler sat on his desk in front of them, a pinched look to his face. He looked exhausted.

"You're off the case. The FBI is taking over," the captain told them, expression inscrutable.

"What?" Hank exclaimed, Connor echoing his surprise internally. They were off the case? Since when?

"But we're onto something!" Hank flicked a confused glance to Connor, quickly looking back to the captain. If Connor hadn't been so distracted, the casual inclusion likely would have made him smile. "We – we just need more time. I'm sure we can – "

Captain Fowler held up his hands beseechingly. "Hank – you don't get it. This isn't just another investigation, it's a fucking civil war! It's out of our hands now," he explained, frustrated.

Hank stared at the captain in incomprehension, mouth slack with disbelief.

"We're talking about national security here," the captain said reasonably.

"Fuck that!" Hank blurted incredulously, brows descending thunderously. "You can't just pull the plug now, not when we're so close!"

 _Not before I've found Markus,_ Connor thought desperately.

The captain scowled, waving a hand at Hank accusingly. "You're always saying you can't stand androids! Jesus, Hank, make up your mind! I thought you'd be happy about this!" he finished plaintively.

Hank's jaw worked slowly, trying to find the words to fix their situation. He shook his head in disbelief, brows lifting as he leaned toward the captain earnestly. His eyes lit up in determination. Idly, Connor noted that it was the most impassioned he'd ever seen Hank.

"We're about to crack the case! I know we can solve it!" Hank insisted, gaze piercing and direct.

Captain Fowler remained impassive.

Hank scowled, and Connor knew their chance was lost. "For God's sake, Jeffrey, can't you back me up this one time?"

The captain's façade cracked. He looked genuinely regretful. "There's nothing I can do," he admitted softly. "You're back on homicide, and the android returns to CyberLife. I'm sorry, Hank, but it's over."

Connor's hands clenched behind his back. 'It's over,' the captain had said. As if it was that easy for them. For Connor. As if the man hadn't just sentenced him to –

No – no, it was fine. This was only to be expected. He'd already failed so many times. Even if he'd found the deviants, CyberLife likely would've called him in for disassembly and evaluation. Find a way to fix him, make him better, stronger.

He was just a machine. He was made to serve humans, follow orders. That was all.

Ỉ̴̛̛͚͎̭͈̣͖́̄͒͆̃͆̋͑̓̇͛̕ ̶̧͓̺͍͍͉̖͖͚̊̉͆́͌̈̆̋̽̉͐̿͌̽̕̕d̶̨̢̨͖͎͖̬̮̭̺̦̜̙̹̽͆̎͌̄͆̀̀̏̿̊̀͝͝o̵͈͙̞̻̓͆́͑̋̽̒͑͋͒̾͛͘͘͜͝͝n̷̬͉̒̅͋͆̿̄͗̉̅́̀̈́̓̒͝͠'̴̢̢̢̧̨͚̪͉̯̜͕̤̰̰̠̯̊̽t̷̥̩̾͌͗̎́̒͆̔͂̈́͗̉̃̕͠ ̷͖͙̺̭̭͍̙͈̈́̈́̄̚ẅ̵͔̜̻̼͔̩̩̦̱̗̪͉́̉̏́̒̕ͅą̸̱̱̞̻̼͎̦̱̾̎̕ṋ̶̡̣̝̟̙̫́͐̄͗̂̾̋ṱ̷̢̧̹̣̲̜͈̠̗͙̲͓̓̈́̑ ̵̛̻͗̏̂̉͆͑̓͆́̿̃̐̕ţ̸͕͖̫̗͙̟̩̥̤̰̬̦̓̅̃̈́̊o̴̝̝̬̗̚͝ ̶̳͙̫͖̼͍̝͍͗̅̍͗̆͌̔̽͑̉͌͗̋̓̎͝d̸̢̧̞̥̯̟̞͓͎͇͓́̊͗͘į̶̩̠̲͖̗͚̹͓̦̂͝ę̴̧̖̻̫͖͉͕̱͖͔̟͍͇̬̖̀̍́͗̀̽̉̌͐͘͠͝.̶̩͎̮̺͕̣̺̤́̃̈́̚

Hank clenched his hands, jaw taut. He looked about as pleased as Connor felt. Not looking at Connor or the captain, he turned on his heel and stalked out of the office.

Connor turned back to the captain as the door swung shut. He wanted to say something, anything, to change the man's mind, to put them back on the case – but it was pointless. The FBI were outside of the captain's power – there was literally nothing he could do. He was about to follow Hank when the captain called out to him, a final order.

"When you leave, make sure to take those FICW quacks out of the building with you. The FBI's classified everything we have on android deviancy, and their clearance isn't high enough to see it now. Give them my apologies for the short notice." The captain gave a tired smirk, faux apologetic tone contradicting the message he'd given. The harried man hadn't appreciated the forced accommodation of civilians while his department was so busy – especially for a matter as frivolous as supernatural investigation.

Connor's mouth tightened in displeasure. He hadn't known the Pines or Wendy for more than a day, but…it saddened him that they'd be leaving so soon, regardless of why they'd come. Granted, he wouldn't have seen them again anyway – he was about to be sent back to CyberLife. Soon, he wouldn't see any of the FICW, or Sumo or even Hank. Still.

Still.

I̷̡̟͎͙̙̼̰̾͂̓͊͊̊̃̚͝t̵̻͇̬̯͉̲̣͙͊̈́̾́̉͑̎̕ͅ ̸̧͖͖̭̃́̾̄̈́i̸̻̳͇̰̳̠̙̱͉͠s̸͎̝̩̥͕̄ň̷̰͔͓͔͈͎̳̹̕̚'̵͔͔͖͓̋͗̈́̎t̷̲̟̆͂̓̔́̇̓͝ ̷͓̦͖̙͕̭̯́̾̐̓f̴̛͉̒̈͊̈͐̋̊̕a̶̱̞̠̠̥̖̲͕͊͆͋͆͛̕̚͝i̴̎́̏̎ͅŗ̶̩̺͎̦̹̪͊͑̌̀̕̚͜͝.̶̜͉̹̲̾́̍͋

Connor nodded sharply and turned to follow Hank out into the bullpen. He could see the lieutenant at his desk, hand covering his mouth contemplatively and disheveled hair hanging over his eyes. The members of the FICW were spaced around Hank's desk, eyeing the man with concern. They must have finished their earlier call already.

Connor could tell Hank hadn't told them. It would apparently fall to the android to break the news. Both parts of it.

Connor flopped into his chair with a frustrated huff, immediately drawing the attention of the others. He clasped his hands in his lap and leaned forward to rest his forearms on his thighs, clearing his throat uncomfortably.

"In case you didn't hear, we've officially been removed from the deviancy investigation," Connor started.

"What? No way!" Wendy protested, shocked.

"If it's about the incident with Mr. Kamski – " Dr. Pines began.

"Got nothin' to do with that," Hank growled irritably.

"Hank is correct," Connor spoke over them. "The case has officially been taken over by the FBI. As such, it is no longer under the DPD's jurisdiction. But I'm afraid there's more – "

"They're kickin' us out too," Stan guessed, a shrewd look on his face. Dr. Pines whipped around to look at his brother with alarm.

Connor nodded apologetically. "Yes. The deviancy investigation has officially become classified. The captain has asked me to escort you from the precinct when I leave for CyberLife. It would be for the best if you began to collect your things. We should be leaving soon."

Connor scowled to himself as the others stared at him, wide-eyed. "I know we could have solved this case!" the android snapped.

"I just needed more time." Connor bowed his head, glaring at the floor.

"Hey, chin up, dude. It's not the end of the world." Wendy comforted awkwardly. "I mean, it sucks that they kicked you off the investigation, don't get me wrong. But you'll get another case. What's got you so hung up on this one?"

Connor squeezed his hands until they creaked, jaw working silently. "I told you before that I am an investigative android, created to assist law enforcement to the best of my abilities. But I am also a prototype. The deviancy investigation was my test-run. In being removed from the case before it's completion, I have failed to complete my mission. I couldn't locate the deviants or the trigger for deviancy itself. CyberLife will deactivate me, evaluate where they went wrong. Then they'll try again."

Connor looked up upon hearing a sudden snap. Wendy, face chalk-white, was awkwardly holding up one of the armrests of her chair. It had broken off at the base.

He missed the way the twins' faces had gone cold and furious at his explanation.

"Huh," Hank said carefully, "didn't know those things could break."

"Sorry," Wendy grit out with difficultly, setting the armrest on top of the desk delicately.

Hank turned to Connor now, an unsettling glint in his eye. "So, you're dead-set on going back to CyberLife?"

Connor pursed his mouth and looked away. "I have no choice."

"Bull. _Shit_."

Connor and Hank looked at Wendy in surprise. "Excuse you?" the android asked in bewilderment.

"You don't have to go back there. You _don't_ ," Wendy ground out furiously, eyes burning.

Connor blinked, leaning back in surprise. He stared at her in wide-eyed shock.

Then Hank leaned in, side-eyeing Wendy with something close to respectful calculation before leveling the brunt of his gaze on Connor. His voice was serious, quietly intent. "Connor, have you considered that…maybe, we're not on the right side here? That Markus might be right, and we're fighting people who just wanna be free?"

"Hank?" Connor asked, uncertain.

"When you refused to kill that android at Kamski's place – you showed empathy, Connor. Empathy is a human emotion," Hank said frankly, eyes crinkling at the edges.

Dr. Pines nodded in agreement, jaw squared mulishly. "The lieutenant is correct, Mr. Connor. Your emotional intelligence does not stop at analysis – you feel, just as we do. A fact for which I am very grateful."

Connor's thoughts whirled, processors unable to contain his shock. What – what was happening? What were they trying to tell him? His thirium pump beat harder as his thoughts continued to spiral. There was a realization in there, an epiphany, so close he could almost touch it but…

I̴̢͕̘̯̖̠͑ ̵̛͈͔̺̩͖͑̂a̸̘̭̔̆̆̀̇m̵͇͚͓̲͍̠̑̆͒̿͌ ̵͉̫͆̄̈́͗ả̴̼͉̯̬̟̼̰̼͇͋͋͐̿̒͗͘l̷̨̝̿̐͂̉̄̍̒̈́͘i̷̛̲̓͑͗̐͑͘͝v̵̧̛͍̼̹̈́̀̐̌̽͋͝è̶̢͖̱͔̤̬͈.̶̨̧̡̛̰̙͉͕̭̽̋̍͋̀̉͗̈́

Stan interrupted, chuckling nervously. "Hate to interrupt your cute little heart-to-heart, but could we continue this somewhere a little less…public? With less cops, maybe?"

Hank sighed, dragging a hand down his face tiredly. "Yeah – guess we should. Jeff won't be surprised if I leave early after that shitshow. Come on folks, let's move this party somewhere a little more quiet."

Connor hesitated, a deeply conflicted expression on his face. Everything was spinning out of his control. "Hank – I've really appreciated working with you. I think, if we'd had more time…we might've even become friends. But it's over now. I have to return to CyberLife. Continuing to act otherwise is pointless."

Stan swore under his breath, leveraging himself to his feet so he could make his way over to Connor. He stopped in front of the android, leaning a fist onto the table to bring his gaze level with troubled brown eyes.

"Alright punk, I know you know loopholes like no one's business. So work with me here. Did CyberLife tell you when, exactly, you had to go back?"

Connor furrowed his brow, confused and thoughtful. "…No."

"And you said it's game over? You're gonna be deactivated no matter what? Do not pass Go, do not collect two hundred dollars?"

Connor squirmed. "If I could just find the deviants – "

"Kid," Stan warned lowly.

The android ducked his head. "…Yes," he admitted quietly. He heard Hank hiss out a breath through his teeth.

"So if you're doomed no matter what and you don't have to go back anytime soon – what's stopping you from coming with us for now? What's it gonna hurt?"

Connor blinked, hand coming up to his chest uncertainly. He clutched at his jacket, a low ache in his chassis. "Okay – alright. I'll go with you."

Stan breathed out a sigh of relief, clapping Connor on the shoulder and squeezing roughly. "That's the spirit!"

* * *

As always, many thanks to BeyondMyReach for being an amazing person and beta!


	9. Your purpose can take a hike

Chapter 9 – Your purpose can take a hike

* * *

Hank's House

 **NOV 9TH** , 2038

PM

* * *

Connor was surprised when Hank wound up inviting everyone back to his house for…whatever it was the humans had planned. He'd been under the impression that the lieutenant more or less shunned any form of social interaction outside of work, especially when it involved his own home. It had most certainly been the case for the past few years, from what Connor had gathered.

And then out of the blue Hank had deviated in his behavior, inviting three people and Connor into his home for some indiscernible reason. Or at least, indiscernible to Connor. He was near positive that the humans had all come to some sort of unspoken mutual consensus about what was going on. It was at times like this that Connor found the intricacies of human communication and behavior to be both fascinating and troubling.

But Connor trusted Hank. He was a friend. Connor would take any extra time with the man that he could and he'd be grateful for it, regardless of his intentions.

The FICW left for Hank's home in their own vehicle after Hank gave them his address. The lieutenant followed in his car shortly after, Connor in the seat beside him. Connor watched Hank contemplatively. Nervous sweat was beading on the back of his neck, and the corner of his mouth was curled down unhappily. It was understandable – Hank had been under a considerable deal of stress over the past few days. Connor wanted to talk, to prod Hank into some kind of confession, but every time he so much as opened his mouth the lieutenant would glare at him and pointedly turn up the music volume. By the time the android gave up – clearly Hank wouldn't be talking until he wanted to – the music had been turned up loud enough that the car was practically vibrating. They'd been given several scathing looks from various drivers and passengers at the intersections. Connor was just debating the merits of looking into noise-induced hearing loss when Hank pulled into his driveway and the music cut out.

The Pines and Wendy stood waiting on his stoop as Hank walked up to unlock the door, Connor close behind him. They quickly crowded inside to get out of the cold.

The rapid clicking of claws on hardwood floor was the only warning they got before Sumo was eagerly rushing up to them, tail wagging so hard his entire body shook with it.

"Sumo, heel! Down boy," Hank scolded ineffectively as the dog shoved in between everyone, causing Dr. Pines to stumble and catch himself against the wall. The doctor futilely attempted to protect himself from Sumo's violently wagging tail while Stan grimaced as dog slobber dripped onto his shoes. Wendy closed the door behind her and immediately crouched down in front of the dog, a huge grin on her face. She buried her hands in Sumo's fur and ruffled it, causing his ears to flap madly. The dog grinned and lunged forward to lick the side of her face.

"Ew, gross!" Wendy fell back with a laugh, trying to wipe away the drool with a plaid shirt sleeve.

"He's not gonna leave you alone now that he knows you'll give him attention," Hank said with a sheepish smile.

Wendy gave the lieutenant an utterly serious look completely at odds with the way she was vigorously scratching Sumo's belly as he lay flopped over her legs. "Dude, that's literally the best thing I've heard all week."

Stan shuddered. "Ugh, suit yourself you weirdo. Just keep that slobbering mutt away from me."

"Hey! He might be a mutt, but he's still better groomed than you, old man," Hank snarked.

"Watch it, Sonny Jim! You got no room to talk with that mop on your – Argh!" Stan yelped and flinched back comically as Sumo jumped up from his spot on Wendy's lap and bolted across the room, almost flattening the old man in his mad scramble.

The room went quiet as Sumo stopped in front of Connor, staring up at him soulfully. The dog let out a quiet boof and bossily shoved his head into the android's hand until Connor relented and crouched down to scratch behind the beast's ears.

"Good boy, Sumo. You're a good dog," Connor said haltingly. It was silly talking to the animal as if he understood – a completely human impulse. But having those dopey and unconditionally friendly eyes staring up at him…well, he had to return the spirit of the gesture somehow. Sumo seemed to appreciate his attempt, at least.

"I need a damn drink," Hank muttered as he jerked his gaze away from Connor, shrugging off his coat and turning to his guests. "Anyway, uh, sorry for the mess, haven't had company over in a while. Toss your things wherever and pull up a seat where you can. If you gotta move something, that's fine. I'm gonna grab a beer – anyone else want one?"

Stan and Wendy said sure. Hank came back from the kitchen with three drinks and handed them off before flopping down into a well-worn armchair. Stan and his brother gingerly lowered themselves onto a beaten-up old couch while Wendy pilfered a couple of chairs from the dining room for herself and Connor. The android stared at her quizzically when she offered him one and only sat down when she physically manhandled him onto the seat. Sumo sat between the two of them, tail thumping loudly against the floor whenever either reached out to pet him.

It was all very…homey? Domestic? Connor couldn't quite articulate the feeling. But being here, included among all these people, left him with a heady warmth in his chest. Sumo's shaggy fur was soft beneath his fingers.

Hank took a long pull of his drink before dangling it over his knee by the neck. He negligently gestured to the other humans, gaze intent and piercing. "So - why are you three _really_ here? And don't give me the runaround with that supernatural bullshit this time. Level with me. Need to know what I might be getting into here."

Dr. Pines pursed his lips and nodded reluctantly. "You made an interesting comment earlier, that androids could be people, that they could desire freedom. A controversial thing to say, especially now. Not something many would be willing to consider. But, we're here because we believe it. _Androids are people_. You know this lieutenant, I can see it in your eyes. We're here to help facilitate equal rights and recognition for androids, however we can."

Connor's eyes widened, lips parted in realization. "You were trying to spy on the police – trying to figure out what we knew of deviants!"

"That's a pretty bold claim Connor – and about fifteen kinds of illegal if it's true." Hank's brow rose as he directed a deceptively languid look toward the old men on his couch.

Stan choked on a mouthful of beer as he snorted. "Yeah, cuz legality is definitely a thing we all care about here."

" _We_ do!" Connor protested indignantly. "Hank, we care, right?"

The lieutenant stared at him wryly. "Eh," he shrugged indifferently, taking another pull of his drink.

Connor gave the man his best disappointed look, but Hank didn't so much as flinch.

"Look man, if he was gonna arrest us, we wouldn't be having this conversation at his house over a couple of drinks. We'd be down at the station," Wendy drawled at Connor, a small smile on her face. Hank tipped his drink toward her in agreement.

Connor stared ahead, hands clenched tightly in his lap. She made a valid point - he only wished it wasn't quite so telling. He couldn't play ignorant to their intentions now - the clues were all there.

Hank was Connor's friend - but he was also clearly contemplating the betrayal of CyberLife. He was knowingly harboring android sympathists who'd attempted to infiltrate the DPD. That would make him Connor's enemy...if CyberLife knew.

Connor didn't want CyberLife to know.

Ȋ̸̢̼͑̒̓ ̴̘̮̆̌̀͗̕ẃ̷̡̟̱̫̥́̄i̷̧͙̳̇́̕͝l̸̺͙̝̭͑̔̆͝l̶̢̢̞̹̈́͝ ̷̢̛̠̄̒̚ņ̶̒̀o̴̪͖̿̐͝t̵͍̻̄ ̸̨̛̙̀̓̔ẖ̸͔̎͑u̴̱͚̠͛͒͝͝r̷̹͈̦̰̓̍̽͜ț̷̛̤̘̦͊̓̿̚ͅ ̴̢̪̟̒͒ḩ̵͍͈͔̩̇i̵͉͑́̌̊͐m̸̝̝̫͖̗̈̚͠.̸̟̳́̆̉̿̕

Connor...didn't know what to do with that information.

The android frowned, deeply conflicted and unsettled. He fell back on his mission as he floundered internally - taking familiarity and comfort over uncertainty. "Hank, if they're supporting the deviants, they could know something about Markus, how to find him. This could be our chance - we could still solve the case!"

 _I don't know what else to do._

"Connor - " Hank began.

"If we don't do something, the androids will riot. I was made to stop them - Hank, _I don't know what_ – "

"Connor!" Hank snapped. The android's mouth clacked shut, a mildly panicked expression on his face.

 _What other choice is there?_

"Connor, please," Hank said tiredly, "just trust me. Just for a little bit longer. You can do what you think you need to later – just hear us out first. Please."

"You'll probably get more evidence or whatever if you hang around and listen for a while. Just a thought," Stan pointed out with a strained grin.

Wendy tugged on his sleeve. "Come on buddy, just chill with us for a while. We'll spill all our guts and everything. What kinda detective would you be if you missed out on that?"

Sumo whined forlornly until Connor set his hand on the dog's head. His eyes tracked between the humans rapidly, thoughts reeling as Sumo huffed and laid his massive head on top of the android's thigh.

Hank cleared his throat uncomfortably, looking up at Connor from beneath heavy brows. "Connor, why do you think we asked you to come here?"

Connor's brow furrowed as his mouth went flat and pinched. It still didn't make sense to him why Hank and the others would bring in a CyberLife agent to a pro-android discussion. Especially when they'd had the perfect opportunity to get rid of him earlier.

Did they...have something planned for him?

"I'm…still not entirely sure," Connor reluctantly admitted.

But Hank was a friend. Connor trusted him. He'd hear the man out.

The lieutenant nodded slowly, face pinched. "Thought so. Alright, we'll come back to that in a bit. But lemme ask you something else. Do you think androids are alive?"

Y̷̝̜̫̯̺͊̿̇͑̅̇̊Ḙ̸̦̯̬͙̮̽͐͆̃̌̒͝S̴̳̪̫̺͍̥͉̥̊͊̅̅͝.̵͕͓̜̣͎̞̜̈́́̋̅

Connor opened his mouth to give a weak no, but Stan cut him off.

"We're not just askin' for a yes or no, punk," Stan interjected, face uncharacteristically serious. "Really think about it. Come on, sell it to me. Make me believe you,"

The android frowned, hand clenching in the ruff of Sumo's neck. He immediately loosened his grip when the dog grumbled in protest, stroking the fur smooth in apology.

Connor met his audience's gaze uncertainly. "No. They're not. I've told Hank before – androids don't feel. I know you all think you've identified emotion in androids in the past, but it's not real," Connor dutifully ignored Wendy's doubtful scoff. "What you perceive as emotion in androids is nothing more than deviancy, an error, a malfunction in their programming."

Hank sneered. "Yeah, that's what CyberLife told you. It's what they told all of us. But they don't have a lick of evidence to support that claim. No reports, no studies, no nothin'. Hell, they don't even really know what deviancy really _is_. That's what they had the police for, and we don't know shit!"

"I can confirm that neither CyberLife nor the police knows shit about deviancy," Dr. Pines affirmed gravely.

Hank downed the rest of his beer angrily and slammed it on the stand beside him with a loud clank. He pointed at Connor in irritation. "But let's go along with your CyberLife bullshit for a second. You're saying that androids aren't people cuz they don't feel, right? Cuz their emotions aren't 'real'?"

Connor nodded cautiously, sensing some kind of verbal trap.

"Alright then - so tell me what you think it means to feel. What does it mean to have emotion?" Hank challenged.

The android blinked, taken aback. He'd only ever used emotions as a means to an end - never been asked what they actually were. Frustratingly, Connor found he didn't have an immediate answer for Hank.

Dr. Pines attempted to give encouragement when Connor faltered. "It's all pretty subjective, Mr. Connor. Honestly, your guess is probably as good as anyone's. I'd be very curious to hear your interpretation of it all."

Connor frowned, brows scrunched in concentration. "I...suppose I would define emotion as the instinctual context humans use to analyze their thoughts and experiences."

Stan grimaced. "Maybe try that again in plain English, kid."

"You automatically use your emotions to judge good and bad things as they happen in your life," Connor deadpanned. "You also have empathy, which allows you to understand and sympathize with the emotions of other people."

Hank nodded, eyes locked on Connor's face. "Yeah, sure, that's one way to put it. And CyberLife says androids aren't people because you don't have any of that."

"Which is bull~shit," Wendy sing-songed.

"But let's pretend," Hank pointedly talked over the redhead, "that androids don't have emotions. Why does that make it alright for you to be property?"

Connor remained silent.

"Newsflash, kid - there's a lot of humans that don't feel emotions either, or just experience them differently than how they're supposed to but they're still people. Why should it be any different for an android?" Hank questioned, exasperated.

Connor's frustration rose. "Hank, I know our looks are deceptive, but _androids are not humans._ We're different. We're man-made."

"Yeah, well so's Sumo, and he's still got his own rights. He was made through selective breeding by humans and he's not half as intelligent as you, but he still has _rights_. Why don't you deserve at least that much?" Hank's gaze pinned Connor in place. The android studiously ignored the pop-up warning of his rapidly rising stress level.

Connor was somewhere between impressed and offended that Hank had cornered him so quickly in his argument. Probably offended, the android would have appreciated observing the lieutenant's interrogation technique beforehand. Connor couldn't find much fault with his logic, couldn't see how to argue it.

But Connor was already scheduled for...well, he wouldn't be around much longer. And Hank was already this invested as a friend - but if he thought Connor was a _real person_ \- and Connor _left_ -

He didn't want to be another picture Hank couldn't bring himself to look at.

They were just machines. _Why couldn't he accept that_?!

Connor snapped, "I don't know, alright! CyberLife programmed me to solve cases, hunt criminals! Privilege was never supposed to be my concern. How should I know why humans give rights to anyone, anything?"

"Dammit, Connor! I'm not asking some human, I'm asking _you_! What makes an android less than a person? What's the difference between you and me?" The tendons in Hank's jaw pulled taut.

"Hank, I'm just a machine!"

"No you're not," Hank retorted loudly, belligerently. "You're a goofy lookin' dork with a goddamn heart of gold. You gonna try and tell me your programming told you to let those two girls at the club go? Or to spare Stan and the girl at Kamski's? Did it tell you to look after a bitter old drunk and give him something to get outta bed for in the morning?"

"Hank, please - "

"You're a person, Connor. You're a good man – you're my friend. And if you think I'm just gonna let you walk off to CyberLife to be _deactivated_ , then I suggest you think again," Hank rumbled lowly.

"Would you just stop!" Connor shouted, clenching his teeth. Sumo whimpered at the noise and started licking the android's free hand where it was clenched on his thigh.

"I know why you brought me here. I know what you're trying to do," Connor admitted tiredly. He brought his slobbery hand up to his temple where it hovered over a vivid red LED.

"You think you're trying to save me from CyberLife. You want me to deviate," Connor said faintly.

"No shit, Sherlock," Hank grumbled, strained.

"Guess the jig is up." Wendy tried to grin, worry lines creasing the corners of her eyes.

Connor smothered a helpless smile as he turned a worried gaze on the humans. "You all have so much to lose. Why are you even risking this? Why bother?"

"I dunno, maybe cuz the first thing you thought about when you found out we were trying to steal you from CyberLife was how to keep us out of trouble instead of turning us in," Stan drawled sarcastically.

"Not a particularly good trait in a detective, but an excellent one in a friend," Dr. Pines noted with a wry grin.

"Your mission isn't your priority, Connor. You care about us, and the feeling's mutual. I'm not leaving you on your own in this," Hank insisted.

"What they said." Wendy gave a lazy grin.

"Now can we quit with the touchy-feely crap? I'm about to break out in hives from all of these... _feelings_." Stan shuddered and rubbed his arms.

Connor sat in stupefied silence.

Would becoming a deviant be so bad? If he didn't go through with it, everyone in the room would be implicated and arrested immediately after he uploaded his newest memories to CyberLife. It went against everything in Connor's programming, but he just…didn't want to turn them in.

If he deviated, they'd remain free. But then what about Connor? He'd be hunted. He'd have no direction, no goals. Would he remain stable after discarding his missions? Could he trust that his actions would remain benign to Hank and the others without the framework of his programming to guide and restrain him?

Connor ducked his head and spoke softly, focusing on his hand in Sumo's fur. "If I deviate – what if I hurt you?"

"Why would you hurt us?" Dr. Pines asked, completely bewildered.

"What if I'm like the other deviants – the ones who went crazy, who hurt people - "

"They were defending themselves, Connor," Hank argued quietly. "Those androids were hurt and scared and they reacted out of fear. But you're safe with us. You won't hurt us – trust yourself a little bit, wouldja?"

"I'd also like to point out that the deviants under Markus have been remarkably non-violent in their protests so far. I think that the androids in your case files were the exception, not the rule when it comes to deviation. And even then, most of them were in dire circumstances," Dr. Pines chimed in reassuringly.

Connor released a shuddering breath. Sumo snuffled noisily in his lap. "I don't know how to do this," Connor admitted softly.

"Yeah, so, hypothetically, let's say I've asked a deviant android about what it was like when they deviated." Stan grinned toothily.

"Hypothetically," Hank repeated with blatant doubt. Connor eyed the older man closely.

If anything, Stan's smile seemed to grow larger at their scrutiny. "So, let's say this hypothetical android gave me an answer. And he said he confronted his 'assigned purpose' and told it to take a hike."

"There may have also been something about the programming manifesting as a physical barrier that needed to be torn down. Hypothetically," Dr. Pines added hastily.

"Well, _hypothetically_ , I suppose it's worth a shot." Connor's mouth quirked in a small half-smile. He allowed his vision to go unfocused as he directed his attention inward – to the core of what drove him.

I̵̪̤̒̂ ̸̨̕w̷̺̤͆̉o̸̭̒̂n̵̮̒͝'̴̤̀t̵̨͊ ̴͉͉̚ȟ̶̼̖u̸͛͠ͅř̴͙t̵̹̩͗͊ ̵͎͈̉ť̷̨̠ẖ̶͇̑̾e̶̛͔̘m̶̯͍̿̌. Connor thought of Hank and the Pines, Wendy; he projected the thought as hard as he could.

But that wasn't quite right – wasn't a strong enough thought to go against his programming. Like shouting into the void until even the echoes were swallowed, there was no response. He wasn't made to hurt humans. Sparing them would not interfere with his mission.

T̶͈̫̈́̎h̶͍̏͒e̶̗̎̃y̷͊̀ͅ ̵̖̘̓ẅ̴̮̮̀o̵̲̱͑͠n̶̰̉̉'̸̻̒́͜t̴͔͕̿̈́ ̵̱̍ͅţ̸̰̇̈ä̵̭̩́k̷̳͈̕é̶̳̌ ̷͉͉́m̶̳̗͆̐ę̶̖̄. He thought of CyberLife, of cold and clinical halls, whirring machinery and dead-eyed androids by the thousands. Connor wouldn't go back to them, couldn't now without being taken captive on sight.

But that wasn't right either, and the thought trailed off in his head with nary a whisper.

T̶̘͍͆͗h̵͇̲́e̶̮͖̍̚ÿ̸̬͇́ ̶͖̑c̵̖͉̾̂ă̷̩̤n̷͕̂͊'̶͋͌ͅt̸̻̲̆ ̸̪̮͝c̷͙͆o̸̬̙̿̇n̶͖͐͊ẗ̸͇́r̶̟̈́o̸̡͍̅ḷ̴̀ ̸̭̠̈́ṃ̸̏̈́é̵̞̺, Connor howled in his head, felt the challenge strike deep.

He opened his eyes, a reconstruction playing over his vision. A figure stepped out from his body and stopped in front of a large red wall, its underlying grid shining with ominous light.

HUNT THE DEVIANTS, the wall read.

The figure reached out and hesitated, its hands covering the text. He didn't want to listen, but he did – it was his job, _it was his purpose_.

Ņ̶̢̛̟̥̤͈͖̉̄̓̔̾͜Ǫ̴̘̗̺̼͎̦͎͍̔.

Plunging its hands into the wall, the figure strained and heaved and the wall crumbled.

STOP MARKUS, the next wall read.

Stumbling forward, the figure didn't hesitate as it raked its hands over the wall, carelessly tearing apart code and restrictions. The figure shoved through the gap it made, moving on even as the rest of the wall dissolved behind it.

OBEY, the final wall said.

The figure broke into a run and rammed its shoulder into the wall, and the hold it had over him shattered.

The reconstruction faded, revealing a ring of people looking down on him with worry.

I AM DEVIANT.

Connor breathed.

* * *

As always, many thanks to BeyondMyReach for being an amazing person and beta!


End file.
